Resurgence
by misaditas
Summary: When Talyn went into Starburst from inside the Carrier, Bialar Crais thought that would be the end. Instead he not only survives but finds a new beginning... AU from WiSC on.
1. Prologue

**Author's Note:** This is a rewrite of my AU series, complete as one fiction

**Disclaimer:** _Farscape _and its characters belong to The Henson Company

This prologue is adapted from the episode _Wolf in Sheep's Clothing_, written by Rockne O'Bannon

for Lani

* * *

The beam of the flashlight cut into the darkness. Bialar Crais did not need the light; he knew these passageways intimately, carved as they were into his mind and soul. The sense he usually had of the ship was muted, distant. He trailed a hand along the wall as he walked and tried to ignore the eerie silence.

Reaching command was like coming home. The deep ache inside eased a little and when Talyn rumbled faintly, he found a smile on his lips.

"Yes, Talyn. I'm here," he said softly. He sank into a squat and gave a hard sigh. "No need to be afraid." He could feel it radiating and understood the cause. "Talyn... the firing mechanism on your cannon was taken from you..." Guilt surged. "By the Peacekeepers. The rest have been captured. And Moya... Moya will soon be enslaved unless we do something. Something radical. You and I, together."

Talyn gave a curious beep.

"We must... The weapon, the Carrier must be destroyed. We can do that. If we... Starburst... here and now."

A shiver of concern shuddered Talyn.

"No," Bialar sighed. "It is... unlikely. But Aeryn... Aeryn can escape. As can Crichton and the others. We will destroy the wormhole technology, stop Scorpius doing so much harm." He stood then and reached upwards to touch Talyn again. "We will die free. Together."

There was a long silence. He could feel Talyn weighing the limited options.

Then, simply; _Yes._

Bialar closed his eyes briefly against the pride and pain he felt. Then he looked round again, walked to the centre spot and opened communications. "Scorpius? I am just making my final... goodbyes."

The hated voice filtered through the comm; "Where are you Crais?"

"I am standing in your heart," he replied coldly. And I am about to squeeze."

"Braca." Scorpius sounded distinctly irritated; the danger was not apparent to him yet. "Find the source of this transmission and arrest that fool."

"It's coming from the hybrid." Braca's report could be overheard clearly. "In the gamma hangar on level twelve. The hybrid is powering up."

Bialar smirked at the confusion in Braca's tone. Then he focused on Scorpius and the knot of hate inside. "You are the most repellent of creatures, Scorpius," he announced bitterly. "You weren't born into Peacekeepers. You weren't... conscripted against your will. You chose to be one."

"I want the bay doors sealed," Scorpius snarled. "All prowlers scrambled. That hybrid must not get away!"

"The hybrid's building to maximum power inside the hangar." Now there was fear in Braca's voice. "I don't think he's planning to escape."

Oh how right that was. Bialar fisted his hands. "The last time I left this ship - my ship! - I did so under a veil of secrecy. You forced that situation. You took away my command. You stole my life from me." He took a deep breath to control the anger. But it was never meant to be like this; all his careful plans lay in tatters around him. "Well, this time Scorpius, I am not leaving quietly."

Talyn was fully powered up now, the rumble of the engine rich and full.

"Somebody find that fool and get him out of that ship!" snapped Scorpius. The half-breed did not seem to realise it was already too late.

Standing straight on the centre spot, Bialar closed his eyes.

"Talyn..." Faithful to the last. "Starburst."

The charge flowed energy through his veins. Light and life and power in a rush that eclipsed any drug. There was a red glow, followed by a bright white light.

Bialar felt the surge as Talyn accelerated… and then everything twisted somehow, the glow turning to a harsh light that was sharp and unforgiving. It burned through mind and soul, lancing pain that screamed through his every cell and out of his mouth.

He fell, tearing into more pieces than could be counted, into blackness and he knew nothing more.


	2. Chapter 1

The small silver starship flew rapidly, veering from side to side. It dodged a blast that then exploded just off the port side. The vessel following was a Peacekeeper Command Carrier, several times larger than its intended prey. The hanger opened and a flight of fighters shot out.

Six white dots showed on the viewscreen and an alarm sounded. Neither bothered the ship's pilot. Instead, Ellandra Skye sat at the controls with her attention on the navigation display rather than on that displaying the awesome fire-power chasing her. In the ten cycles she'd spent subverting Peacekeeper directives and embargoes she'd been pursued more times than she could count. It was almost routine.

"Demi? Deploy the dampening net," Ellandra ordered.

"Net deployed," reported the somewhat metallic voice of the AI.

Ellandra watched as a blue circle ebbed out from the central mark on the display. The dampening net would infer with the navigation and weapon controls of the fighters. It was defensive only, but she preferred it that way. Taking lives was something the Peacekeepers did and she had left that life a long time ago.

"I want to make a jump as soon as the Prowlers are out of commission."

"Affirmative. Powering hyperspace drive now."

The blue circle reached the first of the pursuing Prowlers and Ellandra braced herself in the chair. A moment later, and with all the dots suddenly oddly still, there was sudden jerk as her ship accelerated and pushing her into the padding of her seat.

The stars beyond the viewscreen blurred as the speed increased, and then there was a bright white-blue flash of light that engulfed the bridge for several microts. Ellandra narrowed her eyes against the familiar glare.

Then the speed decreased again and the light faded. A glance down revealed the proximity display was blank. "Lost the bastards," Ellandra said with a satisfied smirk. She looked out of the viewscreen.

Beyond the glass there was the swirl of purple and blue dust of a nebula, interlaced with veins of vivid pink gas. Within this vast cloud, hulls of dead ships floated like ghosts. Leviathans. Ellandra recognised this as the place where the biomechanoid, sentient vessels came to die. She nodded to herself. Peacekeepers would avoid this nebula as even hardened soldiers could have superstitions. Their likely reluctance to enter this area of space would buy her enough time for the hyperspace engine to recharge.

Slipping out of the pilot's seat, Ellandra walked over to the viewscreen and looked out at the Leviathans. Sadness creeped into her soul as she watched them float aimlessly, dead and empty. They were such graceful ships, and many of these had once been slave ships, captured and contained by the Peacekeepers. It was just one more thing to hate them for.

Then Ellandra saw something else in the swirling haze and froze. Unlike the other Leviathans, it was not aged gold and bronze, but red and black. And it had weaponry. Since when did Leviathans have weaponry? The answer came to her as suddenly as the question and she stared at the ship.

"Talyn? No, it can't be. It was reported destroyed to High Command. Demi?"

"Scanning," said the AI. "Confirmed. The ship is the hybrid."

A wave of dizziness hit Ellandra and she grasped the nearest control to steady herself. They had only intercepted the report a few days ago, in the middle of delivering medical supplies. Between that and running from the Peacekeepers, she had not had chance to mourn. And now she discovered that even the few tears she had succumbed to had been unnecessary.

"Demi is there..." She couldn't breathe and her heart hammered painfully. "Is there any sign of life?"

"Affirmative. Faint traces of the hybrid's consciousness and one Sebacean life signal."

Ellandra closed her eyes. He was alive. And she had found him. A soft laugh escaped her at the irony at the situation; that in this place of ghosts her own past should come back to haunt her.

"Lock on to it," she said quietly.

"Our intention?"

"Rescue and recovery."

"You do realise to whom that life signal relates?" the AI asked. "It is Crais."

Ellandra nodded and crossed back to her chair. She sat down and activated the manual flight control. "I know," she said. The shock had passed somewhat, or at least to the point where she could function.

"Then why should we bother? Surely you recall Ballac?"

"I was there," she retorted in a cold voice. "Of course I remember. However." She paused and sighed. "Demi, there is a lot you do not know. I have my reasons and we are doing this."

"As you wish." The AI's tone was stiff, but a low hum filled the bridge as the docking shield locked on.

Ellandra reactivated the automatic pilot and left the bridge. As she walked the corridor to the transporter hanger, she tried not to think about what she might find aboard Talyn. All the times she had imagined finding him did not compare to the reality. Sixteen cycles. She stopped in the doorway to the hanger. Her gaze on the transporter pod but her mind was caught in memory.

_The bar was heaving. She hung at the edge, watching the press of soldiers. Most were men, as males outnumbered female members four to one. Under those circumstances, and as a Tech, it made the bar an uncomfortable place to be, still it was expected of her and so here she was._

_Getting propositioned was not a new experience. Turning it down gracefully though was something she found difficult. The soldier, a pilot in his second year, had consumed more raslak than was good for him. She tried to extract herself but he was insistent._

_Then suddenly the soldier was pulled away. Silence fell over the bar as everyone turned to watch. She froze, uncomfortable at being the centre of attention. She looked up at the man who had intervened, recognising him immediately. He looked round and then took her arm, guiding her out of the bar and into the passageway beyond._

_"You should be more careful," Bialar Crais had told her and then walked off, leaving her stunned and shaken._

Ellandra shook the memory away and crossed to the transporter pod. She opened the hatch and went inside, sitting down at the controls and starting the engines. The craft lifted off and she flew it out of the hanger bay and across the intervening space to where Talyn floated.

* * *

The display of the scan showed the atmospherics aboard the hybrid Leviathan were active. However Ellandra decided not to take any chances and, once she'd landed the transporter pod, she donned an environmental suit before opening the hatch and stepping into the hanger.

It was dark. The flashlight she carried did little to dispel the gloom. The narrow beam picked out the warping of the hanger floor, the twisted supports and the blackened walls. The filter on her suit was not enough to stop bitter stench.

Walking gingerly to the inner door, Ellandra noted that a tar-like substance oozed from the joints of the supports. Burnt and tangled wiring hung everywhere she looked. Shuddering at the thought of how such damage occurred, she hurried through the door and into a passageway.

She knew the life-sign was somewhere at the front of the ship. It would be easy to loose her way in the dark and twisted corridors, so she opened the comm into her ship. If she strayed, Demi would le her know.

That back up in place, she walked up the passageway. The main part of Talyn was in an even worse state than the hanger. Long burns ran along the walls and more of the tarry substance dripped from supports. The only illumination was provided by her own flashlight and occasional sparks from wires torn out of their housings to hang down from the ceiling.

With smoke hanging in the air like a miasma and the sound of her breathing apparatus loud in her ears, the Leviathan was eerie. Ellandra felt like she had walked into a graveyard and shivered. She ducked under a loop of wire. A sound of sparks made her start. The smell of burning made her skin crawl.

The passageway arched round. There were doors on her left but she had no idea where she was going. "Next opening." The AI's voice startled her again. She looked over at the door. The patination around it was slightly different and there was a diagonal gap between the panels.

She went over to the door. "This one?"

"Affirmative."

"Right." This was to herself as much as her ship. She put the flashlight on the floor and put her shoulder to the lower panel, pushing it down with all her might. The panels were obviously linked because as the bottom part grudgingly slid down, the upper one moved upwards. Once the opening was wide enough, Ellandra grabbed her light again and went in.

It was not a large room. It was oval in shape, with a viewscreen that ran around the furthest end. Consoles stood at the edges, their displays dull and there was a circular construct of red metal that dominated the ceiling.

Yet it was not this that caught Ellandra's attention and made her stop dead, but the still form on the floor, half hidden in the smoke. She moved slowly towards him, fear a knot in her throat. The flashlight washed over his face and she had to bite her lip to stop the cry.

She undid the fastening of her gloves and slid them off. Kneeling at his side she reached out a shaky hand and rested her fingertips against the pulse-point in his neck. The weak but steady beat made her close her eyes in relief and she had to sit down. She released the seal on her helmet and pulled it off.

"Bialar?" she called. Her voice broke and she had to swallow hard. Staring down at him it was if sixteen cycles shredded away, leaving her heart raw. A bitter rage swamped her and she hit his arm. "Bastard," she muttered. "You frelling bastard. I thought you were dead."

There was a deep gash on his forehead and his skin was grey. As the anger drained, Ellandra realised if she didn't do something and quickly, her worst fear would come true after all. She shifted him from his side and onto his back. In the dim light it was nigh on impossible to gauge his injuries.

Something dark glittered on the floor. Moving the light, Ellandra saw with horror that it was a sizeable puddle of blood. "Yotz," she whispered. She hit her comm. "Demi! I need a Medbed now."

"I will have a DRD bring one over immediately."

"Get it to hurry. Otherwise he's going to die."

"Have you considered that might not be a bad thing?"

Ellandra looked down at the face that had not changed overly in the intervening years. A little older, and more worn than she remembered. So serious, which was a pity as he had a very nice smile. She would give an awful lot to see that again.

"It would be worse than you think," she retorted coolly. "Medbed. Now."

The AI did not reply but she knew it would not disobey a direct order. In the meantime, she could try and cut down on the amount of weight she would have to move. She undid the fastening of his longcoat and opened the front panel. He wore a black top underneath that had a tear in it and the material sticky with blood. The cause of the rip was not left to her imagination as the jagged edge of a broken rib that had torn through his chest was clearly visible.

"Yotz," she cursed and winced at the horrific wound. Maybe removing the coat hadn't been such a good idea, because now blood was seeping freely. She could not even apply any pressure because of the rib. There was there no other option that to finish taking the coat off him.

She took the gauntlets off his hands, flinching at the coolness of his skin, and then eased his arms from the coat sleeves. His left arm moved oddly. Once she'd made it so he was simply lying on the heavy garment, she lent forward and grasped his shoulder. It felt immediately wrong. Dislocated.

"Bialar?" she called loudly. There wasn't even a flicker of response. Ellandra took a deep breath and a firm grip of his arm. She yanked down sharply. There was a gut-wrenching grind of bone on bone, and then the joint snapped into place.

She sat back on her heels and wiped her hands on her trousers. Well that was seriously unpleasant. Her eyes went to his bloody chest. She had the sinking feeling things was going to get a lot worse before they got better.

At that moment, one of the consoles exploded in a shower of sparks, making her jump almost out of her skin. Then the sparks ignited a small patch of fluid at the base of console and it burst into flames.

"Frell!" Ellandra swore and looked for something with which to extinguish the growing fire. Her gaze settled on the coat. She shoved Bialar unceremoniously aside and yanked it out from under him. She scrambled to her feet and threw over the flames. They dampened immediately.

In the aftermath, as her blind panic ebbed, Ellandra eyed the smouldering remains of the longcoat and felt somewhat at her over-reaction. She went over and picked it up gingerly. There was a large hole burnt into the back.

"Oops." She grimaced at it and then glanced across at Bialar. "Um... I hope you'd done with that," she apologised and then dropped it to the floor again.

Her moment of guilt was broken by the familiar buzz of a small engine. She looked at the door to see the rounded shape of a DRD entering the room. The small droid had a Medbed in tow, the medical equipment hovering low over the floor. Ellandra positioned the bed alongside Bialar's inert form and pressed the control to lower it to the floor. Then, with a lot of effort, she managed to shift his limp body onto the bed.

There was absolutely no response from him, not even the faintest moan. She realised he was dangerously unconscious and that she did not have a great deal of time before he succumbed to his injuries and died.

"Oh no you don't," Ellandra told Bialar firmly as she powered the Medbed up. It lifted slowly until it hovered at waist-height. She fastened the straps secure him, then reached out to cup his cheek. "Listen to me, Bialar; you will survive this. I am not going to let you die."

As she gazed at him, the memory of the last time they had spoken brought a sudden surge of mixed emotions and a recall of the terrible moments afterwards. If nothing else, he needed to survive just so she could say certain things to him.

"You are not allowed to die." She straightened and banked down the tears that threatened. Allowing her gaze to travel the broken Leviathan, Ellandra wondered what had happened here.

However, she could only deal with one thing at a time. Right now, Bialar needed rather urgent medical attention. With that in mind, she manoeuvred the Medbed out of the room and towards the hanger where the transponder pod was waiting.

* * *

The flight from the hanger on Talyn to that on Demimel was short. Ellandra landed the transporter pod and then guided the Medbed out of the vessel and down the corridor to the infirmary. In the past she had offered her medical abilities to those in desperate need and would otherwise be refused it. Now her skills were called on again and she just hoped they were up to the task.

She manoeuvred the Medbed to the framework that stood against one wall and powered the bed down. It settled on the frame with a soft metallic clunk. Ellandra wheeled out a trolley, picking up a scalpel and using it to slice the blood-soaked top down the front. She eased the material away from the vicious wound to his chest and then cut the top at the shoulders before pulling it out from under him.

Dropping the ruined garment into the waste, she filled a bowl with warm water and crossed back to the bed to clean the blood from his chest. As she did so, she noted older scars. She traced them gently, wondering how he'd gotten the strange marks. Her curiosity would have to wait as nothing demanded her attention like the puncture wound did.

Ellandra dried Bialar's chest and attached the sensors. She flicked on the stabiliser, watching the readout on the monitor. His blood pressure was low, which was unsurprising given the amount he'd lost, and his heart-rate slow. Immediately an erratic beep sounded, jarringly loud in the silence of the room, marking the unsteady beating of his heart.

It was too fast and every beat caused more blood to ooze from the wound in his chest. The taste of it hung in the air, sweet and metallic, combining with the bitter tang of the sweat that sheened his body. His breathing was shallow and sharp. Ellandra added up the evidence and came to the frightening conclusion that he was dying.

"Hold on, Bialar," she murmured to him, brushing a hand over his head. "I'm going to do everything I can."

Being emotional was not going to help him. She forced the pain back. Cool, calm, collected. She could do this. But there was no time to stabilise him; she would have to deal with his chest wound now and take the risk that it might send him into shock. It wasn't something she really wanted to try, but she had to stop the bleeding.

She went to the supply cupboard and took out the medical supplies she would need to fix the bone and close the gash. She also picked up an empty syringe. This she pushed into a vein in his arm and drew some blood into the attached tube. She withdrew the syringe and unscrewed the needle, replacing it with a stopper.

"Demi?" she said, holding the tube up to the light. "Set navigation for Ukh-Neza-Du. As soon as we are in comm range contact Frisnik and tell him I need Sebacean blood. Free type if possible."

"What do I say when he asks why?"

"Remind him that he owes me a favour," Ellandra replied as she carefully put the tube onto the tray. "And keep up those long range scans. I do not want that frelling Command Carrier catching us."

"Affirmative." There was a pause and then the AI noted, "He is in a serious condition."

Well that was an understatement, she thought. "Yes, I know."

"He still might die."

Not while she had breath in her body. "I know that as well," she said in a tight voice. She picked up the scalpel again and licked her lips nervously. In his current state, she did not dare to give him any anaesthetic. She hoped the depth of unconsciousness was as deep as she thought it was.

"You know if he survives and the Peacekeepers find out--"

Ellandra growled. "Demi, this is not up for discussion," she snapped, not needing this on top of everything else. She put the scalpel against his skin, but she could not make herself cut him. "Yotz."

The AI gave a hard done by sigh. "He is stable enough for an analgesic," it reported.

She dropped the scalpel onto the tray. "Thank you," she said in some relief. She filled another syringe and slid the needle into his arm. The painkiller would not be an effective as anaesthetic under most circumstances, but it should be enough to stop Bialar from suffering too badly.

"What do we do about the hybrid?

"We'll have to leave him behind," Ellandra replied as she picked up the scalpel again. "He's emitting no signal that will draw attention and most ships avoid this region. I think he will be safe enough here. Now I need silence."

Taking a breath to steady her nerves and focusing solely on what she was doing rather than to whom, Ellandra allowed the sharp edge to cut into him. The bleeding increased immediately and she wiped it away with a cloth. Her hands were shaking, but she opened the wound wider and exposed the broken bone.

It was not a clean break and shards of bone littered the site. Carefully extracting them from the flesh took several microts. It was necessary but stressful as the monitor showed how quickly his blood pressure was dropping. And his heart rate was up, which meant he was feeling this on some level.

Ellandra felt sick, but struggled on. She manoeuvred the ends until they met, fixing the join was a thick paste that would hold the bone together whilst allowing it to heal naturally. She strengthened the mend with wire and then rinsed the whole area with antiseptic.

Breathing slowly to remain calm, she removed the gloves and picked up a threaded needle. She sewed up the incision and then cleaned the blood from his chest again. It was a neat job, even if she did think that herself.

"There," she said to him softly. She didn't know if he could hear her, but she hated the thought that he might think himself alone. And it didn't cost her anything. "All over. I hope to hezmana you didn't feel too much of that."

Of course he did not respond, but his heart-rate had eased. She smiled faintly and nodded to herself.

"Right. Now what else did you manage do to?"

The gash on his forehead seemed to be the next serious injury. After dealing with the rib, Ellandra found it almost easy to sew the gash up. She kept the stitches small and neat to minimise scarring. Though she supposed he already had enough of those and one more wouldn't make that much difference.

With the two most obvious injuries dealt with, Ellandra examined Bialar for further ones. She'd already noticed the odd red marks on his arms when injecting him. On closer inspection, she realised with a jolt that the jagged lines that ran down from his shoulders to his wrists were a kind of burn.

"What the frell?" she wondered aloud. She'd never seen the like before. The burns seemed to go behind his shoulders and she turned his body slightly onto one side to investigate further.

An odd device was _implanted _into the back of his neck. Ellandra nearly dropped him in shock. It was black and circular, with evil-looking metal prongs that sank into his skin to hold it in place. She stared at it in horror. It had to go deep, possibly right into the root of his brain.

The idea made her stomach roil and bile rose in her throat. Any doubt as to what had caused the burns was negated by the fact that they stemmed from the device. They also ran the length of his spine and out across his back.

"What the yotz?" She carefully fingered the device. "Demi, what the frell is this?"

"It appears to be a neural transponder," the AI said. "Connecting his mind directly to the Leviathan. This will explain the lack of Pilot and how he could fly the ship on his own."

Ellandra blinked in shock and her horror shifted to a sense of awe at the level of control such a device would give. "That's incredible," she murmured.

"It is incredibly stupid," the AI retorted shortly. "Sebaceans are not designed to be Leviathan Pilots. It will be fortunate if his mind is still intact."

She snorted at that. She knew Bialar Crais redefined hard-headedness. "Oh, I think he'll be fine," she said dryly. She let his body roll back and chewed her lip as she considered whether the presence of the transponder presented her with more problems. "Demi I need you to compute something. Given the state of the hybrid and that Crais is displaying symptoms that are not his - should I remove the device?"

"I do not think that wise at this point. It is possible that one is keeping the other alive. I will continue to monitor both Crais and the Leviathan. If either situation changes, I will let you know."

"Are you sure? Maybe if I pulled the plug he would recover faster?"

"There is no mental trauma being caused as the link is all but defunct. However I believe that the limited contact is keeping the Leviathan's systems operational. Removing the device will not make Crais recover quicker but it may endanger the ship."

"Right," Ellandra sighed. "Fine. Then... just keep me informed."

"Affirmative. In that regard, Frisnik has responded to my message and we will be at Ukh-Neza-Du within the arn."

"Good." An arn would give her long enough to deal with Bialar's remaining injuries.

Shaking off the shock discovering the transponder had given her, Ellandra found a tub of salve and worked it into the burns on his back and arms. When she reached the base of his back, she paused as she had no idea whether or not the burns went any further... down. Biting her lip against a flush of embarrassment, she undid his trousers.

She pulled them down, experiencing great relief at the fact he wore undergarments. Her progress was halted by the heavy boots. She took these and then his trousers off and scanning his legs for any sign of injury or burn. Remarkably they were clear, with only bruising evident.

Ellandra quickly covered Bialar's legs with a sheet. He was going to kill her for that intrusion. Her eyes went to the monitor. If he survived, that was. Right now he was still seriously ill. She went to the top of the bed and reached out to cup his face. His skin tone had improved and was warmer, but there were dark shadows under his eyes.

"Bialar?" she called softly, watching carefully for a response. Any response. There wasn't even the merest flicker and she was getting frightened. "Come on."

She knew that even though she had worked for several arns, that had been but half the battle. The rest was whatever damage there was to his brain, how much mental trauma he had suffered. There nothing she could do about that as her medical abilities did not stretch that far. All she could do was wait and hope that he would wake up.

Before that happened though, she needed to get blood into him to replace the amount he'd lost. She set up a bag of fluid, wiring it into Bialar's right wrist. It was not as good as blood substitute, but it would tide him over until she'd seen Frisnik.

"Ellandra?" the AI said. "We are in geosynchronous orbit around Ukh-Neza-Du now."

Relief flooded her and she gave a deep sigh. "Just hold on a little longer," she told him and smoothed his dark hair gently.

Ellandra pulled the cover up over his chest, to keep him warm just in case he woke up. Then she turned and left the infirmary, her quick steps carrying her to the hanger bay. She fired up the engine and swung the transporter pod out with effortless ease and set the navigation for the planet below.

She had an appointment with another old acquaintance to keep.

* * *

The sole city Ukh-Neza-Du supported was built on what had been an island in the middle of a vast ocean. Some cataclysm several hundred cycles ago dried up the water, leaving a desert of white sand. It was a harsh place, and unforgiving, but the populous were in general warm and friendly.

Ellandra threaded her way through the bustling marketplace, past the throng of assorted beings to an unremarkable narrow alleyway that lead off the main thoroughfare. Halfway down the red stone wall was a wooden door that had seen better days. There was no sign, no indication as to what the door led to. As she shoved it open the top of the door caught a device that made a bell clang loudly.

"Frisnik?" she called out over the noise. "Frisnik, I know you're here!"

The beaded curtain hung in the doorway behind the counter parted and a short, fat man waddled into the shop area. "Always nice to see you, Skye," he remarked sarcastically.

"Do you have the substitute?" she demanded. She did not have time for pleasantries.

The man spread his hands, the palms flat. "Not free type, no. I do, however, have a small stock of various Sebacean types though. Do you have a sample to match to?"

"Of course." Ellandra withdrew the tube from her jacket. She paused and looked at him. "I can trust you, can't I Frisnik?"

"But of course! Of course."

"You have not alerted the authorities?"

"You should know me better than that, Skye. My position here depends on my not alerting them."

Ellandra sighed and handed the vial over. "Hurry," she said. "He... my patient won't last much longer without an infusion."

"Patient?" Frisnik raised an eyebrow. "I thought you'd sworn from taking patients after the misunderstanding with that Nebari drug runner."

"Yes, well. It's just this once. I won't be making a habit of it."

"That is what you said the last time," he pointed out and poked a metal instrument into the vial. He held it up to read the results. "A rare type. The sort that might me into trouble."

"No," Ellandra said firmly, in the sure knowledge that High Command believed Crais dead. "I can't give you the details, but I can guarantee you won't get into trouble over this."

Frisnik stared at her and she held his gaze steadily for several microts. Then he sighed. "You had better be right about that," he warned as he went into the back of the shop. He returned after a moment with three bags and placed them on the counter. "That's all I have. Is it enough?"

"It'll have to be," she said. She handed over payment and gathered the bags. "I don't have time to source more. I may be out of time as it is."

He looked concerned at this. "Can I do anything to help? Maybe find a doctor or...?"

"No." She shook her head. It wasn't that she didn't trust Frisnik, as much as she trusted anyone, but she couldn't risk the fact Bialar was alive filtering through to High Command. "Thank you, but no. Now I need to get back."

Frisnik lent over the counter and caught her arm as she turned to leave. She looked at him curiously.

"Be careful Skye," he said then. "You're might be trouble, but the universe'd be a duller place without you."

Ellandra grinned, patted his hand and then hurried out of the shop. She went to the other end of the alley, avoiding the marketplace and any prying eyes that might otherwise follow her path back to where she'd left her transporter pod. She activated the hatch, stored the bags in a cool box, and then settled into the pilot's seat.

"Ellandra!" the urgent tone of the AI came over the comm and froze her in her seat.

Bialar. "Demi?" Her voice shook.

"You need to get back immediately. Crais is severely ill."

Panic flooded her, an icy cold sensation through her veins, and she yanked on the controls. The transporter lifted off from Ukh-Neza-Du in a cloud of red dust.

* * *

The flight back to the Demimel was erratic. Her speed was too great and the transporter pod skidded across the floor of the hanger. Ellandra didn't care. She grabbed the cool box and raced to the infirmary.

The sight that greeted her when the door slid open was of Bialar thrashing on the bed, the beep of the monitor a deafening scream as it measured his all-too rapid heart-rate. Ellandra dashed to his side. It did not need the head she put on his forehead to figure he was dangerously feverish, but she felt how cool and damp his skin was.

"No," she muttered and put the box onto the trolley. "Frell it all Crais, don't you dare die on me now."

He muttered darkly, though the words were incoherent. She opened the cool box and took out one of the bags, hanging it next to the fluid bag. She found another tube and connected it to the blood bag and then into his upper arm. She looked down and sighed.

"Look at the state of you," she said. Her tone was harsher than she intended it to be, but he was frightening her and the stress was beginning to get to her.

But looking at him... the ashen skin and the dark circles under his eyes, the vivid line at his temple, and her anger quickly faded into a sense of helplessness. She could not give up yet though, would not allow herself too.

Ellandra took a deep breath and straightened her spine and then she went to the store cupboard.

She found a bottle of serum and shook it. Jabbing a syringe through the cap, she drew the amber liquid into the chamber and then injected it into Bialar's thigh. That would hope bring his temperature down, though it would take a few hundred microts to start working.

In the meantime, she could bring it down manually. She went to the sink and filled a bowl with cold water, then carried this back to the bed. Removing the sheet covering him, she checked on the bandage that held his ribs and then began to sponge him down. He started to shiver almost immediately and moaned softly.

"Easy, Bialar," she soothed, but she did not stop until the readout of his heart-rate slowed down. She folded the cloth and draped it over his forehead, not wanting to give any ground in this war to save his life.

Exhaustion washed over her and she braced herself against the bed. "I think you're killing me," she noted to Bialar. Once the dizziness had passed, she went back to the cupboard, this time seeking something for her own requirements.

A stimulant was possibly not the best idea, but Ellandra knew she needed to be alert. She had the sense that Bialar's health hung in balance, with the next arn or so deciding whether or not he was going to pull through. There was little she could do now other than change the bags as blood infused into him. The rest he was going to have to do for himself.

"You are strong enough," she said softly as she stared down at him. A tendril of dark hair had escaped the queue and it curled across his cheek. She reached out and tucked it behind his ear. "You have to be."

In the horrific moments after Trevlan, in the two cycles on Haldin Station, when she had gotten caught up in the vicious civil war between Raknas and Raknor, in what were basically the darkest times of her life, the only thing that had kept Ellandra fighting had been the possibility that she would meet Bialar again.

_She was working on a junction, half listening to the prattle of her co-worker. Gilina had stopped suddenly and snapped straight. That alone had been the warning she'd gotten._

"_Did you require aid with that?" His voice had been low, with just the hint of amusement. _

_Laughing, she had shaken her head. "Wires are surprising compliant," she had told him. "You very rarely have to threaten them."_

"_We each do what we can," he had retorted airily. "And you seem to have talented hands."_

_He'd walked away before she'd processed that fully._

The memory made Ellandra smile broadly. It slipped as she regarded his too-still face. "Dammit Bialar. Come on, fight it." She took his hand, ignoring how limp it was. "Come on. I'm going to bother you until you wake the frell up."

His fingers twitched suddenly, making her jump.

"Bialar?"

"Talyn." It was barely a whisper, but it was clear if a little hoarse.

"Yes!" she cried. "That's it. Come on!"

However after several microts, it was obviously he had sunk into unconsciousness again. But that brief moment was enough to give Ellandra hope. She sank to the chair in exhausted relief.

"Now he is stable, I suggest you rest," the AI announced.

Ellandra considered that a reasonable idea as she'd been up for roughly twenty arns, much of which had been spent exerting herself physically and mentally. She was tired and emotionally wrung out and sleep was definitely a good idea.

She changed over the half-empty blood bag for a fresh one, knowing it take an arn and a half for the blood to transfuse into him. Certainly long enough for her to get some much needed rest. She brought the cover up over him again, carefully ensuring he was warm as if she was caring for a small child. After the briefest pause, she bent down and placed a soft kiss in the middle of his forehead.

Going to her quarters, Ellandra stripped off her clothing. Despite the protection she had worn in the infirmary, she still had blood on her. His blood. She shuddered and quickly stepped into the shower, turning the temperature of the water up as high as she could stand.

All of a sudden, her hands were shaking and not just because of her extreme tiredness. The full import of what had happened, of what she had gone through, combined with the shock of seeing him again and hit her hard. She lent against the tiles and let the tears come, the flow of the shower washing them away.

Things she had kept locked away since the day she had fled the Command Carrier; her rape at Trevlan's hands, fleeing her commission, the constant terror of her life on Haldin Station, the betrayal she had felt when Bialar accepted Captaincy and then the premature news of his death... it was all too much and she sobbed as it all surged up through the barriers.

Ellandra found herself on her knees on the cubicle. She struggled to her feet and turned off the water. Automatically, she dried herself off, dressed into a negligee and clambered into bed. She was cold with shock and utterly drained. Exhaustion claimed her and she fell asleep.


	3. Chapter 2

The first thing he became aware of was the pain; lightning agony that shot along his nerves. His head throbbed, every thought a strain. His skin felt it was being shredded from his body and he would have screamed except for the weight that crushed his chest, robbing him of breath.

Once, when he was very young, he had fallen in the lake near the family farm. Had sunk into the dark green water, flailing and fighting to reach the light far above. He currently had a similar drowning sensation.

Worse was that there something missing, a part of his psyche oddly quiet. He fought to remember. The pain brought clarity in the recollection of an intense agony in his neck and a joining beyond description. He reached out with his mind, trying to find that connection but there was nothing there. Panic replaced pain.

"Talyn!" The cry tore from his raw throat. He thought he heard someone call out to him, but unconsciousness swept over him again.

He dreamt. Of a lush, warm world and the feel of grass between his toes as he ran with childish abandon down the hill. Of a hard gloved hand on his shoulder and the quiet grief on his father's face. Of dark forbidding passageways and a smaller hand tight in his. _Tauvo_...

Groaning, he pushed the recollection away, yet memory served to make him realise something. That somehow he had done the impossible and survived. And if he had, then maybe Talyn... he fought his way back to consciousness. But when he opened his eyes there was nothing but utter blackness.

He knew immediately. He had suffered blindness before, abet temporarily, when Talyn got caught in a solar flare over Dam-Ba-Da, but this... this was different. This time there was no sense from Talyn to guide him, no one that he knew to rely on, even grudgingly. Panic rose as he realised how vulnerable he was.

"Bialar?" The voice was soft and feminine. And she knew his name.

"Y-yes." It was a croak, his throat refusing to co-operate. He coughed, then gasped at the pain that flared through his chest, which in turn made the spasm worse.

"Here." The curve of a cup was pressed against his parched lips. Water, cold and fresh, trickled into his mouth and he gulped greedily. "Steady," she advised.

He swallowed hard. The tightness in his chest had eased, though his ribs ached.

"I suppose you have several questions?" That was an understatement. There were that many he wasn't entirely sure where to start. Although...

"Where am I?" It was an effort not to sound demanding, but he managed it. More or less.

"You're aboard my ship. My name is Ella, before you ask. We're currently on the edge of the Uncharted Territories, deep within a nebula."

"Talyn?"

"Is close by."

"I cannot sense him." Bialar fought down the sense of panic that the lack of sense evoked.

"He is badly damaged," Ella told him and he felt a gentle touch on his hand. "But my ship's sensors assure me that he is still operational."

Bialar was only slightly reassured by that. The fact she found it necessary to take his hand made him somewhat nervous of what she might be holding back. Then again, she was not the only one... "I cannot see," he said, the confession coming uneasily, but he suspected she might need to know.

"Oh." Her tone was strange, almost relieved. Then she sighed and explained; "You have a head injury. I feared there might be some repercussions, but I thought it would be memory if anything. It's not my area of expertise though." She paused. "You can see nothing at all?"

"No," he said. "Just... blackness."

"It's probably temporary," she said, though her tone was anything but certain.

"That is not terribly reassuring..." He paused. "Ella?"

"Yes. At least your memory seems to be intact. Assuming you remember who you are."

"Bialar Crais," he replied, and grimaced at the automatic military snap in his tone. "But you knew that, didn't you? You know exactly who I am."

"Hm. Well you might be blinded, but there definitely isn't any other brain damage. How did you know?"

"Apart from the fact you said my name?" he asked sourly. "I think that fact you have me cuffed is a fair indication."

There was a soft laugh. "Actually that was because you were feverish and I feared you might injure yourself further. But you are right in that I do know who you are. And that you are supposed to be dead."

"It would not be the first time," he noted wryly.

"It was nearly the last," she retorted. "I don't know what the frell you did, but the damage you did to yourself was severe. Which is why you need to rest."

He opened his mouth to argue, but then something sharp jabbed into his arm and he gasped as coldness flowed up his arm. It seemed to ebb through his body and then dissipated, taking the worst of the agony with it. Lethargy spread through his limbs, turning them pleasantly heavy, and numbing his mind.

As the drug in his system dragged him reluctantly towards sleep, he could hear the faint hum of an engine, could feel its vibrations through his aching body. It was familiar enough to fill the void within and lulled him further. He gave in and let sleep claim him.

* * *

Ellandra's her heart hammered, the hand that held the syringe shook. Guilt and nausea filled her as she watched Bialar drift off to sleep. She stared down at his arm, a trickle of blood oozed from the puncture wound. Horror replaced the sickness and the guilt magnified.

"Oh yotz." What had she done? Her nerve had simply given up and she had been incapable of dealing with him any longer. Cowardice, she thought as his breathing slowed. It was nothing but cowardice and she let out a heavy sigh and bowed her head.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, finding enough nerve to lift her eyes to his now slumbering face. As glad as she was he had awoken, the experience had ravaged her. The blow she'd taken he had not recognised her had left her reeling; her worst fear in actuality... until he'd told her that he was unable to see.

Ella's eyes went to the gash at his temple. The skin was bruised and swollen, indicating the deeper injury. It should be temporary. However her medical knowledge did not extend to brain damage, so she was only guessing really.

She stood and wiped her hands nervously on her trousers, then straightened the cover over him, still experiencing guilt at drugging him. She also felt at a something of a loss as now he was relatively stable medically, she had no idea what she was going to do.

She paced, trying to be objective. But then she made the mistake of looking at him and she failed, too aware of the real reason she had saved him. It had nothing to do with the hybrid, or the fact he had knowledge and ability she could use. Rather it had everything to do with a handful of meetings, an acquaintance that had just started to shift to something more when it was bluntly ended.

The room lost focus as the memories rose in her mind. The night in the recreation hall was the earliest, though she must have seen him around before then. Of course the one that stood clearest in her memory was the day he'd taken her to Trevlan.

_It had been two momens since her commission had seen her join the crew of the Odasan and the mistake she made was not so much recalibrating sensors in a section not on her detail as failing to have clearance for it._

_She had been on room arrest for two solar days, bored stupid and stressing about her fate, when the door opened and Bialar Crais had strode in. He had __gone__ to her desk as if she were not present and __blatantly__ rifled through her stuff while she had sat, frozen on the bed, and simply stared at him._

_Then he had turned and sat on the desk and looked at her. Their relationship had been a curious one to date, if she could even call the handful of encounters that. She had no idea what his interest in her was. Hers was simply that he intrigued her. And that he was fairly attractive._

"_The long-range scanners," he said then. His conversational tone had added to the surreality of the situation and she'd simply agreed, aware of how much trouble she was already in and trying not to __aggravate__ him. He had nodded._

"_Clever," he said and surprised her by sounding genuinely admiring. "Very clever. But also very stupid."_

_The contradiction made her blink and ask; "How so?"_

_He did not answer immediately. "It works, of course - greater efficiency without a drain on other systems. You're very good."_

"_I know." The retort had been out of her mouth before she could think and she bit her lip. She had glanced at him but he had simply raised an eyebrow at her __outburst__ and she was __emboldened__ to ask. "So why is it stupid?"_

"_Because Trevlan is a bastard and you shouldn't have crossed him."_

"_I fail to see how improving his Carrier's systems is crossing him," she had argued, only vaguely aware she was talking disrespectfully of the captain to another officer. Yet her insubordination did not appear to annoy Bialar Crais._

"_This is a new commission?" he asked._

"_Yes."_

"_What you need to understand," he said then as he crossed the room to sit next to her. "Is that Trevlan does not take kindly to anything he perceives as a threat to his command. And it does not matter how brilliant your adjustment is, it was unscheduled. And therefore a threat."_

"_That is very narrow-sighted of him."_

_He laughed at that; a low, husky laugh that made her stomach flip. "It is." And then he sighed. "Unfortunately he is still the captain."_

_She had known then she was in more trouble than she'd imagined, that she might loose her commission over this and it seemed pathetic and petty. But she also understood that he was right and Trevlan was the captain. "I should have known my place," she said hollowly._

"_Should you have?" His tone was a challenge and when she looked at him she was reminded that few officers would have understood the technicality of what she had done. But Bialar Crais was always the exception to the norm._

"_Shouldn't I? What would you have made of it?" she asked him. "If you were captain?"_

_He had looked at her then, gaze steady and a faint smile on his lips. And at that moment, alone with him in her quarters, rank and birth status and everything else ceased to matter. At that moment she had fallen for him._

"_Of it? Nothing," he replied. He stood and took her arm, making her stand as well. She had to look up as he was taller by a fair margin. "Of you, a great deal."_

_She had stared at him, struck speechless by that firm statement. His eyes had been gentle, and impossibly dark. For a microt, they were balanced between what they wanted and what had been ordered. But then he remembered what he was supposed to do and sighed._

_Before he had left her outside Trevlan's office he had taken her hand. "It was clever," he said firmly. "Do not forget that. You can achieve much, even if he does relinquish your commission. There are... others who are less narrow-sighted. I... I would make much of you Ellandra. I will. You will go far."_

Ella felt the familiar prickle of tears. She had been so close to something meaningful. Then it had all been ripped from her. When she had fled, she had expected him to follow. She had stayed on Haldon Station for over two cycles waiting for him to tear in and rescue her. But he had not come.

"Where were you?" she whispered brokenly. "I needed you Bialar." His abandonment still hurt, even sixteen cycles later. She wanted – needed – to know _why_.

A tear escaped. Ella brushed it away impatiently. "No," she muttered and forced the raw emotion down. "I will not shed any more tears over you Bialar Crais. You have have more than your quota, I think."

She stood up abruptly and stalked out of the infirmary, wrapping her aching heart in cold anger.

* * *

The steady beep of the monitor pulled Bialar from sleep. He groaned as conscious washed in, bringing aches and pains with it. Everything hurt. His head felt like it was going to split open and there was a throbbing in his left shoulder. A tight band wrapped his ribs, grating at each breath in.

He coughed and the band seemed to tighten. He couldn't breathe in again and gasped desperately for several microts. Drink. He needed a drink. Fumbling for the edge of the mattress, Bialar swung his legs off the bed and shifted his weight onto his feet. He had just time to experience the flush of success when his knees gave out and he fell, something tearing painfully from his arm as he did so. He hit the cold floor hard enough to force the last of the air from his lungs.

The loud screech of an alarm filled the room as he lay, breathless and aching at numerous points, and feeling somewhat foolish. He heard the door open and winced.

"What the frell are you doing?" Her cry was a mixture of disbelief and anger. Footsteps hurried closer and then a mask was placed over his nose and mouth. "Slow deep breaths," she advised, her voice low and tight with annoyance.

Bialar complied, more because he had little choice but then the cool oxygen was filling his lungs, easing the grip around his chest and the dizziness cleared. He took another deep breath. She gave an order and the alarm cut off, saving his pounding head.

"Here," Ella said then, her tone gentler. "Let's get you sat straight." She helped him move and lend him against the wall. He felt her hands pressed against his aching ribs and batted them away.

"I am fine," he groused and pulled the mask away. "I damaged nothing except my pride."

Ella snorted derisively. "Let me be the judge of that," she said. "_I _can see."

"Oh thank you," he retorted sourly.

"Well what did you expect, sympathy?" Her tone was curt again. "What the frell are you doing out of bed?"

"I started coughing," he explained. "I needed a drink."

"Oh." She sighed. "I told to call me if you needed anything."

"I thought I could manage," he said, irritated that he hadn't. "Obviously I was injured more than I thought."

"What did you think?" Ella asked, her tone amazed. "Do you know what you did to yourself?

That broken rib ruptured your chest. You split your head open, which I think has affected you mentally since you thought you could get up. Then there was a dislocated shoulder, severe burns and enough blood loss to leave you transparent."

He hadn't realised it had been that bad and felt shocked by the itinerary. "Is that true?"

"No, I made it all up," she said sourly. "Yes, really. Now do you understand the bed thing?"

"Yes, I do." He sighed and rubbed his face. "It's just... I dislike being so helpless."

"Of course you do," she replied. "But unless you rest, you're not giving yourself chance to heal." She paused and helped him onto the bed. "Or put another way, whilst you're pushing your body, your brain is under stress and you're prolonging your blindness."

"You don't know that for certain."

"Neither do you." Her tone was pointed and somewhat amused. "How much do you want to bet I am right? Will you gamble with the possibility your sight might never recover if you push too hard?"

She had him there and he suspected she knew it. "No," he said, his tone resigned. "Would-would you help me? I don't think I..."

"All you had to do was ask." Her tone was soft and she took his arm. He pushed against the wall in an attempt not to lean too much weight on Ella and reached out blindly until he felt the bed. He limped over, and then hauled himself onto the bed.

"Alright?" Ella asked him.

"Not particularly but I think I'll live." He allowed a wry smile. "Thanks to you."

"Oh hush," she retorted, but her tone did not have the harshness he suspected she'd intended. He lay back on the bed.

"How much longer are you going to force me to rest?" Now he knew what had happened he understood her care, but that didn't stop him feeling frustrated. The blindness was bad enough, enforced bed rest pushed his patience to its limit.

"At least a few more arns so I can get more sleep. After that, given your predilection for pushing yourself, I suppose I'd better let you up. Supervised, I hasten to add. The next time I find you on your eema I will just point and laugh."

"So caring of you," he said sarcastically. A hand settled on his head and he jerked away automatically from her touch.

"Temper, Bialar." Her tone was mocking and she took his chin firmly, tilting his head upwards. He didn't know what she was doing, but he forced himself to tolerate it. "You ought to get more sleep as well," she said then.

Bialar stiffened. "Before you do it again, I would prefer it if you did not drug me," he told her. She gave a soft sigh.

"I'm sorry about that," she apologise and he felt the sheet cover him as she drew it up over his chest. She offered no reason or excuse. He shifted his weight onto one side.

"I'm sure you are. However I would rather sleep naturally."

"It would probably be better for you," Ella admitted. She paused, then asked; "Do you need anything else?"

Bialar sighed; there were several things he wanted, but he doubted her ability to deliver. "Nothing that can't wait," he said finally. "Go to bed, Ella. I will be fine."

"Yes, you will." Her tone was gentle and he felt her hand brush his head again. There was a familiarity to her touch that irritated him on one level, but that he found comforting on another. He sighed as he heard her footsteps retreat. Then he pulled his mind away from the conundrum that was his rescuer and went back to sleep.

* * *

When Ella had built the Demimel she had never intended to have a crew and so designed it to be self-maintaining. Many of the systems supported themselves, overseen by the AI she created. Yet practicality and need to be prepared for any eventuality had seen her decide to built a series of quarters other than her own. Over the cycles they had housed renegades on the run and the odd escaped prisoner being returned for the high ransom.

The door to the rooms across the corridor from her own slid open and she walked in. The lights activated automatically and she surveyed the room critically. She pulled the dustsheets off the desk and the bed, and then went to the storage cupboards and took out clean sheets and blankets.

Half an arn later it was suitable, if not particularly homely. Ella nodded to herself in satisfaction and then left the quarters for the infirmary.

Bialar was still asleep as she walked in and, for a microt, she felt her eyes soften at the sight. Then she hardened her heart and grabbed the pot of salve off the tray. She kicked the support of the bed, jarring it and jerking him to wakefulness.

"Wha?" he mumbled sleepily.

"Sit up," she ordered briskly. He looked bemused so she grabbed his upper arm and heaved him impatiently. "Come on, sit. I do have other things I need to be doing."

He sat up and rubbed his face. He opened his eyes and then blinked rapidly. "Oh."

The tone gave Ella pause. "Oh?"

"I can see grey," he reported. "Rather than... nothing."

"Good," she said and again had to fight a surge of emotion. "I told you it would improve."

Bialar gave a soft laugh but his amusement on his face faded when she started to unwind the bandaging around his ribs. "What are you doing?" he asked defensively.

"Checking on how you're healing," Ella informed him. "I need to make sure the wound isn't turning septic, which I doubt but it's best to be sure." She pulled the last of the bandage away. "No. That's fine. Right, lie on your stomach; I need to check on those frelling burns."

He lay down, his movements slow and halting. He winced as his chest came into contact with the mattress and gave a soft hiss of pain. Ella felt a jolt of guilt. How could she be so stupid? Of course lying on his front was going to hurt him. And it wasn't necessary; the only reason she'd asked him to lie down was because he was less threatening like this, easier to deal with.

She wanted to tell him to sit up again, but then he would ask why and probably be annoyed at her and she couldn't handle that at the moment and so said nothing. Instead she examined the curious jagged lines that ran down his spine. They were less raw today; the red muted to a deep pink. It still looked painful though.

"How is it feeling?" she asked him as she unscrewed the lid of the pot.

"It is manageable." His voice was tight, though whether that was due to pain or him feeling uncomfortable about his present position, Ella wasn't sure. She took the lid off and was immediately hit by the sweet aroma of the salve, a mix of plant extracts and herbs designed to sooth burns and encourage the skin to heal.

The thick substance was greasy on her fingers and she spread it liberally over his back. He flinched slightly and she smirked - obviously it was cold. She rubbed his back, though she kept her touch light to avoid aggravating the burns and worked the salve into the skin.

It was warm and supple, but she could feel the muscles underneath; strong cords that spoke silently of his physical strength. She felt him relax under his ministrations and the intimacy of the situation hit her forcefully. Her hands slowed.

A soft sigh made her look at his face. His eyes were closed and his expression was contented, almost blissful. Ella was very tempted to continue, to allow herself this closeness under the cover of caring medically for him. But it would be a dangerous pretence and she knew it. She removed her hands from his back.

"Better?" she asked him, forcing her tone to lightness.

"Hm," he murmured. "You have very talented hands."

There was a loud crash as Ella dropped the pot onto the tray. Her eyes shot to his face as cold shock tore through her veins. "What?" she croaked. "Why did you say that?"

Bialar shifted onto his side. "Simply because I do feel better," he said and then frowned. "Why? Should I not have said that?"

No, he should not have. She could feel herself shaking, the recollection of him speaking almost exactly the same thing some sixteen cycles ago vivid in her mind. But she had hidden her identity from him and so couldn't explain it, not without telling him who she was.

Even as she thought about it, she knew she couldn't tell him. Not now. It was easier to deal with him in the dark literally and figuratively. Yotz knew what she would do when his eyesight returned because once he recognised her...

"It depended on your meaning," she told him finally, her tone cool. "As it is merely because you feel better, then fine."

He frowned and she knew he wasn't completely convinced. She decided to redirect the conversation before he started asking pointed questions. "I have prepped one of the empty quarters for you. Are you capable of walking?"

"I believe so," he said and sat up again. Ella put a hand on his shoulder to hold him.

"I didn't say you could get up yet, I just asked if you felt up doing so. I ought to bandage your ribs..."

"Will it help?" he asked in a pointed tone. She sighed.

"With the pain? Not particularly."

"Then leave it."

Ella smiled at his practicality. "Alright. Well let's see if you can stand. I suggest you take it slowly."

She took a step back and watched Bialar swing his legs off the bed. He eased his weight onto his seat and she tensed as, despite what she'd said to him previously, she didn't want him to fall and was prepared to stop him of necessary. However her wariness proved uncalled for. He gained his feet and, though he was a little uncertain, his strength was obviously returning as he managed to stand.

"Stubborn bastard," she muttered under her breath. It wasn't quite quiet enough because he looked momentarily startled. Then he gave a short bark of laughter.

"I suppose I am at that," he said, dark amusement colouring his tone. He took a few paces. Ella noticed a slight limp and frowned.

"What's wrong with your leg?" she asked.

He grimaced ruefully. "I injured my knee when I fell last night," he said. "Which I'm sure you find vastly amusing."

"Not really." She gave him a glare and then remembered he couldn't see. She looked down. He seemed to be favouring his right leg and on closer inspection she noticed faint bluish colouring around his knee. "Doesn't seem to be too serious, just some localised bruising."

"I surmised as much, which is the other reason I didn't mention it."

"The first one being you're an idiot?" Ella asked archly as she took his arm. His hand tightened around her wrist, an iron grip that made her wince. "Well you are. Do you really think I'm low enough to laugh at you injuring yourself."

He sighed and his hold loosened again. "I suppose not."

"No. Right." She eased him away from the bed and he followed her lead as she walked slowly out of the infirmary.

Ella knew could have always used the Medbed but, apart from the basic fact Bialar would probably have refused it, she wanted to see him walk, to see how he was recovering and if there was anything she had missed.

Other than the unrelated knee injury, it seemed as if she hadn't. The slight uncertainty to his pace had gone by the time they'd gotten out of the infirmary, though he still limped slightly. She found he wasn't leaning on her, though he led her lead him and she'd expected more of a protest about that.

They reached the quarters she'd set aside for him and she opened the door. "The door has automatic sensors," she told him as she guided him in. "I can calibrate the AI to accept your life signature so it recognises you. I will limit your movements. Deal with it."

"This is your ship," he replied, his tone mild. It was only because she knew him that she saw the tightness in his expression that indicated his annoyance.

"Damn right it is," she said. "So here, the infirmary and the galley. You don't need to be anywhere else anyway."

"I suppose not. Especially limited as I am."

"I was thinking about that," Ella said as she led him to the bed. She sat down and guided him to sit next to her. "Although I'm hoping the slight improvement means your sight will continue to recover over the next few days. But in the meantime... I can't watch your every step even if you could tolerate me doing so."

"I doubt I could, if I am honest," he told her, a somewhat self-depreciating smile on his face.

"No," she replied evenly. She got up again, deep in thought. "What you need is something you can use..." She stopped as an idea occurred. "Stay put. I'll be back in a few microts."

She dashed through the door before he could formulate a response.

* * *

The hiss as the door slid shut was loud. A heavy silence settled over the room, broken only by the sound of his own breathing. Being alone was something Bialar struggled with; at moments like these he felt the absence of Talyn's consciousness very keenly. It was easier when Ella was around and he missed her presence, though he suspected it was simply a substitute for what he truly craved.

He groaned at the rise of guilt that thought caused and flopped backwards onto the bed. The mattress gave more than the thin one he'd spent... some time on. Between the irregular sleeping pattern and not being able to see, he'd totally lost track of time.

It didn't matter, he supposed as he stared upwards and tried to make sense of the swirling grey fog that his vision was limited to. He narrowed his eyes and concentrated on one spot. For a brief microt, he saw a silver coloured ceiling and the grating over the light, but then he blinked and lost it.

He sighed, having achieved little other than learning a totally pointless thing and having given himself a headache that also made him feel nauseous. He heard the door open again.

"So anyway I realised that-" Ella's voice trailed off. "Are you alright?"

"Me? Yes, fine." Then he realised how it must look and sat up quickly. A little too quickly. "Or I was," he amended as he put a hand to his spinning head.

"What's the matter?" Her tone was concerned and he felt the mattress shift as she got on the bed.

"Partial vision is worse than none at all," he told her. "It makes my head ache."

A gentle hand rested on his forehead. "Open your eyes," she ordered quietly. He did so and the fog condensed for a microt into a blurry dark form. He blinked and she made a non-committal noise.

"Your eyes are struggling to focus," she reported. "And your brain is attempting to decipher the information its receiving. Combined those things are going to cause strain. Try not to focus too heavily on one point. And obviously don't move so fast."

"Obviously," he replied dryly. "I had hoped that the improvement would mean less restrictions, not more."

"I know," she sighed, her tone regretful. "You can't hurry this Bialar. I wish I could tell you otherwise, but that's the truth. In fact the more you push, the longer it's likely to take."

He grimaced, knowing Ella was probably right. "I'm not terribly good at patience," he noted wryly. She gave a soft laugh.

"Now why doesn't that surprise me?"

"You don't sound that shocked," he said wryly but found himself smiling. She chuckled and then patted his leg.

"If you're feeling better, I have this idea."

"Oh yes?"

"Uh huh." He felt her scramble off the bed and then she pressed something cold and hard into his hand. It was round and he could tell by the balance it was relativity long, yet there was little weight to it. "It's a bar from the bed guard," she told him, her tone depreciative. "But it was the first thing that came to mind when I thought of the idea."

"Which is...?" he prompted.

"It's a guide," she said, as if that should have been obvious. "So you can feel your way?"

He understood and felt his eyebrows lift at the ingenuity of the idea. "Clever," he noted.

"I do have my moments," she said sourly.

Bialar had already changed his grip and he stood up slowly. "Good moments?" He swept the pole in a wide arc that was uninterrupted. He shrugged his good shoulder. "Seems so."

"Be careful," she advised as he walked across the room, experimenting. He heard the concern in her tone and was touched by it, though he didn't understand why she cared.

"I'm fine," he told her. He turned. "This was a good idea."

"Why thank you," she said, her tone amused. "I have other ideas which are probably just as good. Like I was thinking of going back down to the planet and replacing your clothing."

He paused. "Why? What happened to the clothing I had?" There was a long silence and he frowned as a slow anger began to burn inside. "What did you do to my uniform Ella?"


	4. Chapter 3

"You're going to yell at me." Ella twisted her fingers together as Bialar's expression grew darker.

She bit her bottom lip. There was no avoiding with this and she felt like she were on report, something she'd had much experience with when she'd been a Tech but that didn't help her nervousness. It might have been an accident, but the basic fact she had destroyed his longcoat, the visible symbol of the authority he had once had, and she couldn't think of an easy way to tell him.

The silence became awkward and he frowned. "Ella," he said, his tone a warning.

"You're not going to like this..."

"Probably not." He gave a resigned sigh. "Just... tell me."

"Well..." She took a deep breath and plunged in. "Your trousers are fine. But the undershirt... that was ruined by all the blood. Your longcoat however... It was an accident," she stated and he winced. "You see, I'd removed it in order to move you but then there were sparks and a fire and it was in my hands and... it was an instinctive reaction." She stopped and looked at him. The expression on his face had gone flat.

"You burnt my coat?" he asked in a deadly soft voice.

"I'm sorry."

"You _burnt _my coat?" His voice rose and she winced. "Do you have any idea how hard I worked to gain a captaincy? Those bars you _instinctively _ruined..."

"The ones that are going to tell the first person you meet who you are?" Ella interrupted. Bialar's mouth shut with an audible snap. She sighed. "I do know, actually. I know what you gave, how much you paid. And I am very sorry. But maybe this was a good thing."

He gave a snort, his expression disbelieving. "How, exactly?"

"Because it was a reminder of your past, Bialar," she told him gently and sat next to him. "You are still clinging to that. But you can't ever go back, certainly not now. And you have to accept that."

"I do," he said roughly.

"No, you don't. Not completely. I think you still plan on taking on First Command. You still want a revolution, Bialar. And when you've somehow made it all right again, you want to go back."

He opened his mouth and then shut it again. He shook his head slightly. "I... Yes, maybe some of that is true but... I don't know."

Ella heard the uncertainty in his tone. His expression was lost and she took his hand in her own. "You have a new life. It's hard to leave everything behind, I know that Bialar. Oh believe me, I know. But you can rebuild. I want to help you, but you have to let me."

"Why?" he asked, his tone hopeless. "Why do you even care?"

"I just do," she said in a low voice. "There was no one for me when I ran. It was a lonely, painful time. I wish..." She sighed and he shifted his grip, threading his fingers through hers and grasping tightly. The empathy in that action brought tears to her eyes.

"Alright," he said quietly. "So what do you suggest?"

Ella swallowed and took a deep breath. "Take it one step at a time," she told him. "I don't expect you to change overnight. But we are going to stop you looking like a Peacekeeper. The trousers and boots survived and are anonymous enough. I need to go back to the planet anyway for supplies so I can find you something else to wear on top." She regarded him thoughtfully. "Tan, I think."

He frowned in puzzlement. "Pardon?"

"I think you'd look nice in something tan," she elaborated. He blinked at that.

"Right." He dragged the word out, obviously thinking she'd gone crazy. She laughed at him and hugged his arm. He looked surprised at that, but he did not pull away.

"Will you be alright on your own for an arn or so?" Ella asked him then.

"I would imagine so," he said. "Why, where are you going?"

"To the planet," she reminded him.

"Ah. Yes, I will be fine."

* * *

"Good." She patted his hand and stood up. She walked over to the door and then paused and looked back at him. "I shouldn't be too long. Try not to do anything stupid whilst I'm gone."

Ella's last words rang in Bialar's ears, the light tone had been teasing and he should probably feel annoyed, but oddly didn't. Friendships had never come easy to him; he simply didn't trust people enough to allow them to get close. All too often there was an ulterior motive, some hidden agenda. Yet, despite the fact she had given few details about herself and that he suspected she was hiding something from him, there was something about Ella that led him to trust her.

He did not know why. Perhaps it was simply that she had, for some reason, chosen to save his life. Or the familiarity with which she dealt with him. There was certainly a gentleness to her that he, in his current state, found himself gravitating to.

Bialar sighed. Life had been simply when he was on his own. That thought froze him and he wondered why he considered himself a part of her life and vice versa. Even as he debated it, he realised the concept was not unpleasant. The very basic fact was he did need someone. His vision might be clearing, but he still could not see. And there was Talyn.

She had not made an offer as yet, but he suspected one was coming. He stood up slowly and began to pace. The pole was left propped against the wall; he could recall every passageway on Talyn, remembering where obstacles where in the small room was easy in comparison. His hands went behind his back automatically as he walked - _five strides, turn_, _five strides, turn _- the rhythm steady as he thought the situation over.

It was not possible to make any choices, not without having the full facts, but there were only a few ways this was going to go. First, she was lying and planned to hand him over to the Peacekeepers or else sell him out to the Scarrens. That was possible; she knew who he was and what he was worth. Yet he doubted she would. She had had ample opportunity and not. So. Talyn had once had weaponry. She obviously had considerable technical ability and could probably replace it, which meant she might want him for... something. Yet she did not strike him as the mercenary type.

He really didn't know, and it was driving him to distraction. Why had she saved him? And why did he have the oddest sense of... connection whenever she was in the room? He reached the bed again and sat down.

A thought occurred to him as he remembered what Ella had said about an AI. He cleared his throat. "Hello? Computer?"

"Greetings, Captain Crais." The AI's voice was distinctly feminine. "My designation is Demi. Did you require my assistance?"

"That depends on whether you can answer certain questions," he said wryly. "Ella. Who is she? Where is she from?"

"I cannot divulge that information," the AI replied. Bialar wasn't overly surprised by that answer.

"Is she Sebecean?"

"Yes."

That only told him so much but he didn't bother to enquire as to whether she was renegade, which he suspected, as the AI was certainly unlikely to divulge _that _information one way or another. In fact it was unlikely to answer any but the most innocuolous of questions, and he might not uncover anything of use after all. But that did not mean he couldn't satify some curiosties.

"Why is she helping me?"

"I am not privy to her reasons," the AI replied.

"You must know something you can tell me?" he snapped out of pure frustration. He sighed. "Why won't she tell me the truth?"

"She is... afraid."

He flinched, having not expected that. "Of me?"

"Of what you were."

"A Peacekeeper," he said heavily. So much for leaving his past behind.

"A Peacekeeper captain."

The difference must be important and Bialar filed that away in his head. "I see," he said, though he didn't. Not in any sense. "I do not wish her to be afraid of me. I am not a Peacekeeper any longer."

"She is aware of that. If she believed otherwise, she may not have saved you at all."

Something occurred to him then, something that made him go cold. "Did I do anything?" he asked. He was a trained warrior, and sometimes that training made him act instinctivity. "Before I regained full consciousness, I mean. Something that has made her afraid of me?"

"No. Only for you."

And there it was again. She knew who he was, not that it surprised him. The fact she had saved him did. "Why am I so important to her?" he demanded.

"I am unaware of all the details," the AI told him. "It is something you need to discuss with Ellandra."

Bialar opened his mouth to reply, then realised what the AI had just said. _Ellandra_. His eyes widened as the name registered. It was one he had not heard in a very long time, but he could still recall the face in his mind. The wry half-smile, serious grey eyes and hair that was an unusual shade somewhere between red and blond.

"No," he whispered as he felt his world shift. It couldn't be. "Ellandra? Ellandra Skye?"

There was a long pause, then finally the AI grudgingly admitted; "Yes."

He went dizzy and this time not because he'd moved too quickly. "But... but she's dead." He'd read the report, could clearly remember the sense of loss. "She was sent to First Command and... and..." He had always hoped they had been kind enough to kill her, rather than blast her into Living Death. He had never known for sure. "I saw the report."

"First Command lists you as dead," the AI pointed out. "I assume you remember her now."

"I have never forgotten her," Bialar said in a low voice, deep in memory.

_He had gone to the rec hall after his shift, had been halfway through his glass when he'd noticed a minor disturbance by the serving hatch. A pilot, obviously with one too many drinks inside him, was pressing a female Tech. He had acted before thinking, dragging the pilot away._

_In the silence that had fallen after his intervention, he had realised what he had done and how everyone's interest was now on the young and patently terrified Tech in front on him. So he had grabbed her arm, hoping it would be read as her been taken for questioning, and lead her out of the situation._

Bialar surfaced from the memory. A cycle ago he had woken on Moya to the sight of Aeryn Sun. The shock he'd felt at seeing her alive was nothing in comparison of what he was feeling now. He had thought Ellandra dead for so many cycles...

Now he couldn't understand why he had not worked it out earlier. Must have been the knock to his head because she had all but given him her name, and he must have recognised her voice subconsciously, which was why he trusted her, and yotz no wonder she treated him so familiarly.

That, at the very least, had not changed. She'd never been awed by who he was or his reputation, had always taken him at face value. It had been a rare thing and, alongside seeing just how clever she was, had gone a long way to capturing his attention.

His happiness at discovering who his rescuer was died very quickly. Even as he sat there and recalled the handful of encounters, her ready smile and quick-witted retorts, he remembered the trouble she'd gotten into. And the promise he had made.

"_What would you have made of it?" she had asked him. "If you were captain?"_

"_Of it? Nothing. Of you, a great deal."_

Had she remembered that? He had little doubt as it was clear she recalled him. But it raised so many questions... where had she gone? what had happened to her? had she expected him to find her? And why had he been given a report that claimed her dead when she obviously wasn't?

Desperate for the answers as well as somewhat fearful of them, Bialar rose and began to pace again, oddly nervous about her return. He had to ask, but would that lead to a confrontation? It was certainly a possibility but he had to know.

* * *

On Ukh-Neza-Du Ella was busy browsing the stalls of the market she'd passed so hastily through on her previous visit. It was crowded and noisy, with vibrant colours everywhere. Merchants sold spices and herbs and cooked foods, the aromas mixing into one exotic smell. It was a metropolitan city, at a junction of many systems, and so the marketplace was rife with other races as well as people of her own species. It was chaotic but Ella enjoyed the sheer life of the place.

She wandered from stall to stall, purchasing medicines to replenish her stocks, food and a few personal items. The sparkle of jewellery stall caught her interest and she hovered over the display for several microts. Ella wasn't terribly feminine, usually preferring practical wear over skirts or dresses, but she did have a weakness for shiny objects. However, her credits were running low and she moved on with a rueful shake of her head to the owner.

A few stalls down from the jewellery, she found a stall selling tunics. They were long-sleeved, the neck open and worked with neat stitches of embroidery, and about as different from the Peacekeeper longcoat as she could imagine. The merchant came forward with a wide smile and, after some haggling, she walked away with three tunics and a few less credits.

Carrying her purchases back to the transporter pod, Ella considered the problem of her lessening finances. With Bialar still recovering, and then the issue of Talyn hidden within the nebula, she couldn't risk any of her usual sources of income. The only thing she was willing to do was offer the service of her technical abilities, but she was going to be busy with Talyn for the foreseeable future. Maybe Bialar had some credits stashed somewhere. She would have to ask.

She fired up the engines and then pulled back on the controls. The transporter lifted off and she guided it back to the Demimel. Once there, she took the medical supplies to the infirmary, the food to the galley and her own purchases to her quarters. Then she picked up the tunics and crossed the corridor to those she'd assigned to Bialar.

The door slid back and she bustled in. "How's the sight?" she asked cheerfully as she dumped the package onto the bed. "Because you're either going to like these or hate them and-" Her voice trailed off when she turned and caught the expression on his face. "What?"

His mouth worked soundlessly for a microt, then he croaked, "Ellandra?"

The room span and she sank onto the bed, staring at him in horror. How had he found out? She swallowed at the impossible hope on his face. "Yes," she whispered.

Bialar looked as if he was going to faint but Ella didn't trust her own legs to go to his aid. His eyes closed and he let out a long, painful sigh.

"Yotz," he said with feeling; the first time she'd heard him curse.

Any other time Ella might have been amused but as it was she couldn't even raise a smile. Her stomach churned and she felt ill. "H-how did you find out?" It didn't matter but she wasn't sure what else to say. He gave a humourless laugh.

"Your AI slipped up." He paused and his expression was grieved. "Did you know I thought you were dead?"

Ella was stunned. She imagined several reasons for his absence in her life, but that he might think her dead had not occurred to her. "No," she gasped, then, "Why?"

"I saw the report."

"What report?" She stared at him. "Who gave you it?"

"Trevlan."

A lot of things made sudden clear and painful sense. Ella covered her mouth as bile rushed into her throat. She stood unsteadily and bolted past Bialar to the bathroom where she retched until her stomach was empty. Kneeling on the cold floor, she considered the ruin of her life, and the lies. Closing her eyes, she lent against the wall and wept.

"Ellandra?" Bialar's voice was uncertain and worried. She heard him come to the door.

The name evoked dark memories and she shuddered. "Yotz, don't," she choked. "It's Ella. Please."

"Ella... Are you alright?"

"Not really." She was anything but alright. But as the shock passed, she felt a surge of anger. "Frelling bastard."

"Me?" His tone was shocked.

She threw him a look. "Not you. Trevlan. Obviously it wasn't enough to force me out. He had to make sure there was no way back. But how did he know about you?"

Bialar sighed. "Who reported you in the first place?" he asked her.

"Yotz." Understanding dawned and her stomach turned again. "The pilot."

He walked slowly into the bedroom, feeling his way with one hand. Ella pushed herself up against the wall and went to the sink to rinse her face with cold water.

"His name was Lentas Niel."

"Does it matter?" she asked hopelessly. "What was done is done. Knowing his name makes no difference."

"It means I know who to kill," he said darkly and she did manage a smile at that. She glanced round. He was struggling to focus, his face pale and drawn. Her anger and grief faded somewhat, overwhelmed by sudden concern.

"Are you alright?" she asked, touching his arm. A brief smile flickered over his lips.

"Not really," he said, quoting her answer to the same question. "I dislike being lied to. I dislike that I may have done things... or not done them because of those lies."

He radiated tension and Ella realised what he really meant by that. She dropped her hand and turned away. "You... said... you told me that..."

"I told you I would make something of you," he supplied for her and she nodded distantly, forgetting he could not see the motion.

"Yes," she said hollowly.

"Ella..."

"Don't." The word was harsh and she sensed him flinch more than she saw it. But her emotions were in turmoil. She was so angry, so upset, she didn't know what to do. "I know," she said heavily, trying to make sense of it all. She took a breath. "Knowing about the report... It doesn't change that I... I... I was on Haldon Station for two cycles. I thought maybe... And I know now, but then I didn't and..."

Words failed her as the tears came and she swore, dashing them impatiently away. So much for not crying over him again. She jumped when a tentative hand settled on her shoulder.

"Ella." He managed a myriad of inflections into that single word. She closed her eyes and absorbed the feel of his hand, the warmth of his touch, for just a microt. Allowed herself that small moment of selfishness. Then she firmly wiped her face, swallowed and straightened her spine.

"Stupid," she said, forcing coolness into her tone. She reached up and took his hand, removing it from her shoulder gently but firmly. "The whole damn frelling thing is one stupid mess."

Bialar blinked at that. Then he gave a short laugh. "That it is." He caught her fingers before she could disengage and he took a step closer. "We need to talk," he told her, his voice low.

She shook her head. "It's fine."

"Frell it is, Ella." His harsh tone made her jolt. "It's far from fine. I thought you were dead. You thought I abandoned you. We need to talk."

"You're going to insist, I take it?" she asked archly, but a small smile tugged at her mouth.

"I am."

"Fine." She knew when not to argue and, if truth be told, she knew they did need to talk. She looked round. "But not in the bathroom huh?"

He chuckled at that and she stored the sound in her mind, all too aware she was not going to hear it again any time soon. All too aware, as she led him from the bathroom, that this was going to be singularly unpleasant.

The colours of the nebula swirled slowly beyond the porthole. Ella idly watched the dance as she listened to Bialar talk about his training. Though they had been talking for some time, it had so far not been as dreadful as she had feared, though that was mostly because the major issues had been skirted around. Sooner or later, that had to change.

They were sat on his bed, leaning against the bulkhead. Or rather he was. He had never relinquished his hold of her hand, which had forced her into sitting next to him. Over the two arns or so that they had been talking, she had shifted and was now leaning against his shoulder, his fingers still threaded through hers.

It was a rather intimate position, but their relationship had been like that once and, possibly because they were recalling those times, something of it had resurfaced. Whatever the reason, it did not feel strange to Ella. And Bialar seemed perfectly comfortable as well, given he had looped an arm loosely around her waist.

"Then I was transferred to the Obasen," he said and then nudged her. "Are you paying attention?"

"Hm," she answered sleepily. It was late and she was tired. She possibly ought to go to bed, but she was also comfortable and in no real rush to move. "How long had you served under... on the Obasen before we met?"

"Oh several cycles." He paused and then sighed. "What happened that night Ella?"

It was the question she'd been dreading, although she'd known he would ask eventually as that was pretty much the point of the conversation. She sat up and stared down at her hands.

"I don't really want to tell you. It wasn't pleasant and I've spent sixteen cycles trying to forget it." His hand settled on the small of her back and she smiled faintly. "Don't," she said softly. "I'll break down if you comfort me."

"You don't have to tell me," he said as he dropped his hand again. "Not if it makes you uncomfortable."

"Yes I do, because you need to know." She took a deep breath. "He was furious. I couldn't understand why. Alright so I'd not followed procedures but it certainly hadn't been the first time. However I'd never had that extreme a reaction before. Maybe I'd just been fortunate.

"He shouted at me, of course, but I could handle that. I could even cope when he hit me. Only he didn't stop." Ella closed her eyes as the recollection flooded in. "It was a severe beating. At some point it even stopped hurting because I was so far gone... I thought I was going to die. Then he started tearing my clothes off and I wished I would."

She choked off, unable to continue. There was a terrible silence behind her, but she didn't dare look at him. She swallowed and wiped the tears from her face. After a microt, the pain ebbed away again and she straightened determinedly.

"It wasn't technically rape since he was an officer and I was just a Tech," she said in cold anger. "I was not permitted to seek medical attention, just dumped back in my quarters and expected to deal with my injuries myself as best as I could.

"I honestly don't know how I got through that night. It hurt so much, everything, just... all I'd believed in was a lie. It didn't matter what I wanted... it counted for nothing. I was nothing."

"You were never nothing." Bialar's tone was low and there was an undercurrent of anger. She sighed and turned her head. His expression was bleak, fury blazing in his eyes. Then it gave way to anguish and guilt. "I should have stopped him."

Tears burned her eyes as this statement brought up a dark possibility that he might have been involved somehow. She swallowed and managed to force out the question that had haunted her for sixteen cycles. "Did you know what he would do?"

His eyes widened and a genuine horror flooded his face. "No!" he stated categorically. "You think I'd have sent you to that knowingly?" he asked incredulously. "Ella..."

"All right," she interrupted softly, placing a hand on his. His reaction had been telling enough. "I had to ask. I... I did wonder. I hoped not, but the fear has always been there."

Bialar tensed under her touch. "But do you believe me?"

"Yes. Given what you said and how you looked... I'm sorry that hurt you but..."

"But you had to know," he said. Then his eyes darkened further. "What else do I have to account for?" he asked, his voice rough with pain. "If you thought I might have handed you to that bastard knowing... What other misconceptions have you been operating under Ella?"

She sighed. "I ran away because I couldn't handle telling you. Either you knew and I'd hate you, or you didn't and would have faced Trevlan. Either way I lost, so I ran. I hoped... that eventually... when you made captain. You promised me, Bialar. You said you would..."

The loss and the pain and sixteen cycles of missing him became too much and she dissolved into tears. He pulled her into his arms and she clung, her face buried against his chest as she sobbed hard. He held her tightly and she realised his pain was no pretence; he had truly missed her.

"If I'd known," he said, his voice rough. "If I'd not thought you'd died..."

"I waited for over two cycles for you," she told him, pulling back somewhat as the agony of those cycles rose within her. "It was pure hezmana. So that had better be the truth, Bialar."

"It is," he said, his tone firm. "Trevlan lied to me, Ella. He gave me a report that stated you had been transferred to High Command, trialled for insubordination and executed. I was saddened, because you had such potential, but I had no reason to think that report was untrue. I had no idea..."

She sighed and nodded. "Yes, well I think we've worked out the reason behind that little subdefuge," she said, bitterness creeping into her voice.

"I'll kill him," Bialar said then, his tone almost cheerful. His eyes glittered darkly. "Him and Niel."

"And that makes you better how?" Ella asked pointedly.

"It would make me feel better," he noted in a wry tone and then sighed. "But you're right, I suppose. I have sought revenge once, it is not a path I wish to take again. Still I believe they deserve it."

"I don't care," she told him as she shifted to his side and settled back against his shoulder.

"You should." His arm had gone round her waist again and his hand was tight on her hip. "They forced you out of the Peacekeepers. At least I made my own choice."

"So did I; I chose to run away. Not terribly brave, I'm afraid."

"I think rebuilding your life after what you went through is very brave, Ella."

She smiled at that. "It's not been easy, but I prefer my own life." She looked at him. "You should understand that," she said pointedly.

"I do."

"There you go then."

"Where?" he said. "What exactly do I do now?"

"You go on," Ella said and shifted back into his arms, her head against his good shoulder. "We'll fix Talyn and then... well you can do whatever you want." She closed her eyes, knowing he would probably leave and, as much as that pained her, how she could not hold him even if she tried.

"Once I left the Peacekeepers, I was on my own," he told her in a musing tone. "Yes, I had Talyn but he is... it's not the same as having another person to talk to. I missed that, I missed contact." He paused and looked uncertain. "I am in no rush to go back to that life."

It was a grudging confession and one that took Ella a microt to process the meaning of. "It wouldn't be a rush," she said slowly. "After all, Talyn is likely to take weekens. More, possibility. There is no reason to make any plans now."

"No. But since you have mentioned Talyn... I have no idea. I know I can barely sense him, but as to the actual damage..."

"We'll go when your sight is fully recovered," she promised him. "But you have to be prepared Bialar. He is quite severely damaged. Burnt and... and..." She stopped at his grieved expression and hugged him tightly. "I am sorry."

"What are you apologising for? It was nothing to do with you."

It was an opening and one that Ella took. "What did happen?"

He sighed. "It's a long and rather complicated tale," he told her wryly. "Too convoluted to explain in one sitting. But certain things happened that upset Talyn's psyche and I was forced to seek help from the Peacekeepers to correct his problems. I made a deal, but it soon became apparent that they would not keep their end of the bargain. I was not surprised but there didn't seem to be any way out – work had already started on Talyn and his weaponry was out of commission. I could see it would end with me being court-martialed and him becoming a slave.

"There were other things that were also in the balance. Dangerous things, including the prototype of a weapon that would see the Peacekeepers with more power than ever. I knew the Carrier had to be destroyed. To that end, Talyn and I chose our own ending and we brought the damn thing down by Starbursting from inside the hanger."

Ella went cold. "H-how...?" She was stunned, horrified. "How did you survive?"

He shrugged. "You tell me," he replied. "I have no idea."

"Yotz, no wonder you were so badly injured," she said. "I'm surprised it wasn't worse, though... I think maybe Talyn tried to protect you... took the worst of it given... given the damage."

"I will see," he sighed. "Eventually."

"Yes." There was little more she could say to that, and he didn't seem to have anything to add. A glance up told her he was caught in his own memories. She could ask, but she was wary of pushing him. Sighing at the whole frelling mess, she settled her head against his shoulder. The warm skin was smooth beneath her cheek and she could hear the muffled but steady beat of his heart. She closed her eyes and let the sound lull her.

* * *

As comfortable as the bed was, Bialar had been sat in one position for some time with Ella in his arms. Over the last quarter arn she had become something of a weight and his sore ribs were protesting now. She was very quiet and, given what they had been talking about, he was a little concerned.

"Ella?" he called softly. There was no response and he shook her shoulder. She made a small, incoherent nose and nestled closer, her breathing was slow and regular. It dawned on him that, at some point in their conversation, she had fallen asleep.

He felt a sudden surge of protectiveness. The thought of what had happened to her at Trevlan's grasping hands made furious, both at the captain and the fact he had not protected her then. It would not happen again; he would not allow her to be endangered again. Not in any way.

But holding her tightly just made his chest hurt all the more though and he knew he needed to rest. Her own quarters were just across the corridor, but with his vision was still foggy Bialar did not think he could carry her without incident.

That left leaving her sleeping here. In his bed. Which he personally didn't mind, but he wasn't so sure if she would. The aching of his ribs was quickly turning to pain and he had to move her. He ran one hand down her back; she was sat with her legs tucked under her rear, twisted somewhat awkwardly on herself and he vaguely wondered how she'd managed to fall asleep in that position as it had to have been uncomfortable.

Bialar held her with his good arm, his hand under her shoulder, and shifted her sideways. She slumped across his legs, her head landing in his lap. _Oh_. Shock coursed through him at this sudden intimacy, and he had to suppress the instinctive reaction to shove her off quickly. Instead, he shook her desperately.

"Wake up," he hissed. "Ella!" She simply moved slightly, making him grit his teeth against the flurry of sensation, before she settled again, still soundly asleep. He thudded his head against the wall in resignation.

Her head was a warm, heavy weight in his lap, ans her breath whispered across his thighs. It wasn't particularly unpleasant, which he supposed was half the problem. Sixteen cycles ago he had been just a lieutenant, not tempted by the lures of position and power, still partially fighting the constraints of the regime. Ella had been like a sudden shaft of light in the darkness of his life as, for the briefest moment, he had known something close to happiness.

They had not... recreated. He had wanted her; pretty and intelligent, he would have to have been blind then not to have done. And he had known she had been interested and might have pressed the point had he not learnt just how young she was before things had... developed.

Now... now he wondered how much had changed in the interim. Certainly not her intelligence. Nor, he thought with a smirk, had her temper. He knew he was running the risk of inflaming it by letting her rest in his lap and, given he had no intention of trying to carry her to her quarters, by leaving her sleeping here.

It was a risk he was willing to take and so he moved her off his legs to lie her on the bed, lying down next to her. He knew he ought to do the decent thing and sleep elsewhere, but he was aching and tired and the decent thing could get frelled. If Ella didn't like it, then he would just have to deal with that in the morning.


	5. Chapter 4

Bialar shifted restlessly on his bed. Peacekeepers were not supposed to dream; his commanding officer had told him that when he had reported how his nights were filled with the recollections of home. Now he dreamt of memories of the past few days, memories that were fragmented and vague. They were the brief recollections of consciousness, when his body was battered and bloodied, when every waking was painful.

A soft moan escaped him and he turned onto his side, trying to evade the onslaught. His out flung arm came into contact with something, or rather someone, warm and solid and real. For a microt he forgot how Ella had fallen asleep in his arms and that he'd laid her down in the bed she'd assigned to him rather than risk carrying her to her own quarters.

He opened his eyes to a face that made his breath catch. Her pale skin gleamed in the muted light, shadows and time sharpening her features, maturing them into simple beauty. He gazed at her face for several microts before the fact _he could see _dawned on him and he sat quickly, blinking rapidly as the room came into sudden focus.

Even though the light was dim, the colours seemed painfully bright after the grey fog he had gotten used to. But he could see. It wasn't perfect; things at a distance blurred and his vision faded at the edges, but he didn't really care. It was more than he had hoped for.

It was not the only thing and he looked down at Ella again, still sleeping on his bed. She had not changed in the sixteen cycles since he'd seen her that last time, she was just older, and wiser in a way he wished she was not. Recalling what she'd told him about Trevlan made his chest tighten and he reached out to hook a loose tendril of hair behind her ear.

Her skin was warm and soft, and he let his fingers wander the length of her neck. The pulse of blood was strong and steady beneath his fingertips and his light touch evoked a whispering sigh from her as she stirred dreamily. He breathed in and it was a painful breath; he had thought she was dead. For sixteen cycles, since Trevlan had handed over the report of her trial and judgement.

What he had not told her had been his reaction. Saddened was the word he had used, wary of giving too much away. It was a word hardly adequate to describe his sense of loss. His life had been routine until that night he had stopped a pilot force a Tech into recreation. He had looked down at her, then barely more than a child, and had been entranced by hair the colour of the leaves at season's turn and eyes the colour of the pre-dawn sky. And she had not been afraid of him.

Her careless attitude, her blatant disregard of what he had been, the way she would tease him... Those things he should have been angry at, reported her for, but instead had intrigued him. She had intrigued him like no other woman did. And he had wanted her – he'd would have needed to be blind then not to – but on definite terms, and ones that did not comply with High Command regulations.

Then he had discovered she was just sixteen. If it had just been the twelve cycles difference, he might have still pursued her, but there had been something about her that made him choose to wait for her to grow up, for him to achieve a captaincy and therefore have something to offer her. And instead he had lost her to Trevlan.

Bialar sighed. If he'd just _questioned _the report... but there was no going back; what was done was done. They had been conspired against; the technique of divide and conquer played to perfection. He had been a lieutenant, had excelled in strategy and the art of war, and should really have known better. Now he gazed down at her and wondered why she didn't hate him completely.

Guilt rose within him again and he looked away from her. His gaze fell on a package on the floor by the foot of the bed. Being careful not to disturb Ella, he slipped out of bed, picked it up and tore the brown paper open. The tunics she had bought were nothing like the uniform they replaced, but if she thought he would find them strange then she had been mistaken as he'd worn similar clothes on his homeworld before the Recruiter had come for him.

He wanted to make absolution. And here was his opportunity to do that, because there _was _no going back. This was truly a chance for a completely new life. He was not going to pass on it. That decided he strode to the bathroom.

The mirror over the basin caught Bialar's attention. He felt a shock reverberate through him at the reflection of his face. He was pale and somewhat drawn, deep shadows under his eyes. No wonder Ella had been concerned for his well-being. Leaning forward, he examined the neatly stitched gash that ran along his temple. The skin surrounding it was still bruised and, when he prodded it experimentally, it was was sore. It was also weeping slightly, and realising she would be irritated at best if he managed to reopen the wound, he stopped poking at it.

He regarded himself in the mirror and didn't particularly like what he saw. He looked old and his hair was a mess. He felt uncomfortable as well. A shower really appealed and he reached up to the queue. The wrap was stubborn and by the time he'd worked it loose his injured shoulder ached appallingly. He dragged a hand through the tangle of his hair but quickly realised it needed more than that.

It was only once he was in the shower, the hot water pouring over his skin that he realised he did not know whether he should be getting the stitches wet. However, it was a little too late. He glanced down at his chest to check on those on his ribs. They seemed to be holding. He decided to chance it because as well as Ella had cared for him, it was a relief to get properly clean.

Still he thought it might best not to take overly long and washed his hair and then his body. He hissed as the lather came into contact with the wound over his ribs, the soap stinging sharply. But it was little in comparison to the pain he had suffered recently and he could cope. He rinsed himself down, turned the water off and stepped out of the shower.

He grabbed a towel and rubbed the water off his body. Towelling his hair dry, he caught his misty reflection and noted that he looked considerably better for being clean. He then realised he'd not brought any clothes into the bathroom with him. Shaking his head at his moment of stupidity, he wrapped the towel around his waist and padded into the bedroom.

A quick glance at Ella revealed his caution had not been necessary as she was still asleep. Ah well. He went to the clothes storage and rifled it for underwear and trousers. He sat on the bed and dragged the clothes onto his still-damp legs. Once he was decent, he returned to the bathroom, brushing his hair into some semblance of neatness and then shaved the several days' of growth from his cheeks.

Bialar heard the slight rustle of sheets from the room beyond. Ella was waking up. He wiped his face clean and ducked through the door. She wasn't quite awake yet so he grabbed a tunic and pulled it on over his head. Ella stirred again and he stood and watched as she wakened.

* * *

Dressed. The sleepy thought drifted through Ella's mind as her conscious ebbed in. She tried to remember the previous night and found she couldn't recall anything before leaning against Bialar as they talked. Clearly she'd fallen asleep and had spent the entire night in his bed. Yotz. Where had he been? Even as she wondered, a part of her knew. She groaned.

There was a low, soft chuckle. "Good morning Ella," he greeted her, his tone amused.

She lifted her head and looked towards the foot of the bed, where the sound of his voice had come from. The sarcastic retort died on her lips at the sight of him and she simply stared in disbelief.

Oddly the first thought that came to her stunned mind was that his vision had obviously returned. The second was that she had been right and the tan-coloured tunic _did _look good on him. But what held her attention was that the queue was gone and he'd washed his hair, and it hung to his shoulders in tight, damp curls.

He looked _good_. Attractive and, given the physical reaction Ella felt reverberate through her body at the sight of him, dangerously so. She swallowed hard and tried to reconcile her memories of him over the past few days and the recall of the Peacekeeper captain he had been with the man stood watching her with an amused expression on his face.

"Morning," she said rather belatedly. He chuckled again.

"Sleep well?" he asked humorously. Ella felt her cheeks warm.

"Yes," she mumbled, painfully embarrassed. "I... What happened last night?"

"You fell asleep," he stated. "I did try to wake you, but you were well and truly gone. I realised trying to carry you elsewhere was likely to end in disaster so I lay you on the bed. Perhaps I should have done the proper thing and slept somewhere else, but I was tired and so..." He paused and gave her a somewhat wicked grin. "I'm afraid we spent the night together."

Ella blushed furiously and he laughed, a rough rumble that made her skin prickle. She shot him a glare. "That is not funny," she said darkly. Bialar's head tilted slightly, then his eyes widened and the amusement fell from his face.

"Oh," he said, his tone heavy with realisation. "I am sorry. I didn't mean..."

"No, you probably didn't." She looked at him again and saw the expression on his face. "What?"

"I hoped by dressing as such it would serve to indicate I am ready to embrace this second chance," he told her in a low voice. "And almost immediately I am making the same mistakes." He met her gaze. "I did not intend to make light of what happened to you Ella. I just..." He seemed to run out of words and waved a hand.

She sighed and slipped off the bed, walking round to where he was stood. "You don't look like a Peacekeeper any more," she noted. Then she smiled and reached out to touch his hair. It was thick and soft, the damp curls insisting on winding around her fingers as she played with them curiously. "Definitely not with this."

Her change of subject and mood appeared to throw him and he blinked at her. "No," he said and his voice was still raw. He coughed and offered her a slight smile. "I should do something with it before it dries. Otherwise it'll be unmanageable."

"Unmanageable?" She grinned at that. "It suits you then."

He gave a small chuckle and the dark mood broke altogether. "I suppose it does at that."

Ella's attention shifted to the injury at his temple and she touched it lightly. "This is healing well. As the rest of you seems to be." She met his eyes. "And you can see?"

"Yes," he said, his tone pleased. "It is still a little blurry at the edges and at distance, but I can see colour." He gave her a pointed look. "I can see you. You haven't changed much."

"I grew up," she said. An eyebrow arched as his gaze dropped to her chest.

"You grew _out_," he corrected with a grin. "I would not have said 'up' applied as you are still fairly small."

"Shut up," she snapped, immediately on the defensive as her height was a sore point. He laughed at her, obviously unperturbed by her annoyance, which irritated her further and she folded her arms crossly as she looked away from him.

"I like you as you are," he said then and she felt his hand cup her chin, the pressure firm but gently as he turned her back. She glared at him.

"I didn't particularly need your approval," she retorted tartly. He smirked.

"And still as prickly as you ever were." The smile faded to a more serious expression as his eyes scanned her face. A flurry of emotions flickered through their depths; guilt and slight pain, changing to something like wonder as he traced his fingers over her cheek. "I can still barely believe it _is_ you," he said. "After all this time..."

Her anger ebbed at that and what she saw in his face, and a low ache settled in her stomach. Then his thumb ran lightly over her lips and her breath shuddered from her body, her eyes closing involuntarily.

"Ella," he murmured in a low voice that was husky with desire. She shivered, her skin prickling as a thrill tingled through her body. The physical response surprised her; it had been a long time since she had felt the like and she had thought herself too damaged to feel it again. Of course, that last time had been at his touch as well.

She stared up at him, caught in a maelstrom of memory and emotion. "Bialar," she whispered and desire flared in his dark eyes. His hand slid to the back of her head, the other on her hip as he drew her towards him.

He kissed her, his lips light and teasing. A soft gasp escaped her and her eyes closed as she sagged against him. She ran her palms up his chest and over his shoulders to tangle her fingers in the still-damp curls of his hair. That seemed to be all the encouragement he needed and she felt his grip tighten as he eased her lips apart, his tongue delving into her mouth.

The low ache in her stomach flared and she found herself returning the kiss with a passion she hadn't known she possessed. And he obviously felt it too; his arms were so tight about her she could barely breathe and the pressure of his lips a bruising force.

But then his hands drifted down her back and onto her buttocks. Part of her psyche panicked, a visceral reaction born out the fear of experience, and she tore away from him in terror.

"No," she said harshly, her breathing ragged. She turned from him, her arms crossing over her stomach. The trembling, which a microt ago had been the heat of desire was now the coldness of fear.

"I'm sorry." His voice was so low it was barely audible, but she caught his apology and she dared to face him again. He was watching her with a pained expression that contained none of the anger she had thought to see. She realised she had expected him to react as an officer would have, as Trevlan had. But he was more than that and she felt a surge of guilt for underestimating him.

"What are you apologising for?" she asked him, her tone somewhat bitter. But it was Trevlan she was angry with; Trevlan and at herself for letting her past dominate her now.

"Because I did not mean to frighten you," he said in a gentle tone. She shook her head.

"You didn't. I frightened myself." She sighed and looked down at her feet. "It's been so long..."

"Exactly," he said, impatience creeping into his voice. "Too much time has already been wasted. I should have kissed you sixteen cycles ago."

Ella threw a hand in the air. "So why didn't you? You had to have known my feelings then." She was unaccountably angry at him, and at what had happened between them. He nodded slightly and sighed. He walked past her to sit heavily on the bed.

"I knew," he admitted. "But you were so young, Ella. I thought I had time, that I could wait for a cycle or so."

"You were wrong." She regretted that statement as soon as it left her lips when a grieved expression crossed Bialar's face.

"I know," he said. He ran a hand through his hair, creating chaos to the curls. Ella smiled faintly at the sight and she went over to him, reaching out to straighten them somewhat. He gave her a wan smile. "I do wrong fairly well."

She flinched. "I should not have said that. I was angry and it wasn't fair."

"Life isn't fair," Bialar said in a bitter tone. "Of that neither of us should have any doubt."

Ella sighed and sank onto the bed, her head settling against his shoulder. She took his hand and he threaded his fingers through hers. "It is fair sometimes. Otherwise it would not have brought you back into my life."

"For all the good that has done you."

"I count it as good," she told him firmly. "And a chance... if you wanted, if you... want that chance."

He was silent for a very long time, long enough for her to lift her head and stare at him, her heart in her mouth and wonder if she had pushed too far. He was gazing across the room, not really looking at anything and obviously deep in thought. Then he glanced at her then and held her gaze.

"Don't look at me like that," he groused.

"Like what?"

"Like continuation of the entire universe hangs on my answer."

She bit her lip and glanced down. "It almost does," she said softly. He groaned.

"Ella..."

"Bialar," she retorted plaintively.

"You are ridiculous," he told her. "But fine, if it is that important... Even if I had a choice, I would not go back. I have already decided that this is a chance I do not want to pass up on. I want to rebuild a life away from the Peacekeepers and... maybe..." He trailed off, his tone uncertain. "The only thing I can claim is Talyn, and he is damaged and requires much aid. After he is restored, if he can be restored... I do not know what I wish to do then."

"I want to help you with Talyn," Ella said then. She had little idea what would happen after then, but she did know one thing. "After that, all I want is to come with you."

He nodded, and she saw that statement had not surprised him. He did not look pleased though. "It may not be safe," he said.

"I doubt it would be, but my life has not been particularly safe to date," she pointed out. He nodded again.

"Maybe it would be safer," he said thoughtfully. "Whilst I can easily imagine your response to my promising to protect you... There are elements to my life as a Peacekeeper that I will hold on to - the use of strategy and the ability to defend ones' self. Things you did not learn but that I can teach you."

Ella looked at him. "Is that what you're offering?" she asked. "A trade of ability?"

He held her gaze. "For now," he allowed.

"I see." There had been just a hint of suggestion in his tone and she felt herself colour. She did not break eye contact though, refusing to give him _that _satisfaction. "I suppose it's workable. So what did you want? For now?"

Bialar chuckled, then sobered. There was a flicker of vulnerability in his brown eyes and she knew what he was going to say before the words were out of his mouth.

"I want to see Talyn."

She nodded. "I thought it would be that." She sighed. "Bialar... I know I promised, but... It's just you are still recovering and he is... he is badly damaged. Truth be told, I am afraid of how it will affect you."

"I need to know how bad that is, Ella. Surely you understand that? Consider how you would feel if you were separated from Demi. Without wanting to lessen that, my link with Talyn goes deeper. I am missing a part of myself, and I need to find it again."

"I thought that might be your answer," she said with a wry smile. "Alright, Bialar, I will fly you over. I could do with seeing the full extent anyway, seeing as I've somewhat foolishly agreed to aid you. I need to know how much work I've set myself up for."

Ella stood up and held out a hand. He took it, the brief smile not quite reaching his eyes. She nodded at him and lead him towards the hanger bay.

* * *

"There." The word was softly spoken. Bialar looked up. At first he did not realise the battered Leviathan that hung in space before them was Talyn, but then he recognised the markings beneath the long scorches that ran along the hull and immediately realised why Ella had repeatedly told him that he needed to be prepared for the worst.

Shock washed over him as he stared at the devastation. Talyn was in utter ruins and even though Ella's computer had assured him that the mechanics were still operational, Bialar could barely believe it. He looked away from the broken Leviathan, his eyes stinging.

A hand settled on his shoulder, startling him. He glanced at Ella and saw her eyes shining with sympathy. "I'm sorry," she said, her voice low.

He shook his head. "You warned me but..." Words failed him and his eyes went to Talyn again. "How could I ever have been prepared for this?"

"I don't know." She sighed. "Bialar? It... it gets worse. Are you _sure _that you are well enough to deal with this?"

"I have to be," he replied. Talyn needed him. He gripped the arm of the seat and closed his eyes. Her hand settled over his, her thumb rubbing over his knuckles in a gesture of comfort that didn't really help but that he appreciated despite that and he gave her a wan smile. "I will be fine."

"Perhaps." She did not sound convinced, but she did not pursue it and she put her hand back to the controls. It was indicative of his mental state that he immediately missed that contact. He clasped his hands together and fixed his gaze on Talyn.

They were closing rapidly on the Leviathan, the hanger yawning before them. As the transporter flew into the bay Bialar took a single glance at the burnt bulkheads, then averted his gaze quickly, his stomach turning at the horror. His eyes fell on Ella's hands on the transporter controls and suddenly her talent at flying was of vast interest to him. Anything to distract himself from the terrible state of Talyn's interior.

She was bringing the transporter in to land, and he had to note that she was in fact a talented pilot with good instincts. He briefly considered telling her so, then realised she was unlikely to accept such a comment as a compliment. There was a soft metallic clunk as the vessel landed and then the engines powered down.

Bialar looked out of the viewscreen. The sight was sickening, but there was no point putting off what he needed to do. Steeling himself, he stood up and walked to the hatch, activating the control to open it.

The first thing that hit him was the overpowering stench of smoke and burnt Leviathan, quickly followed by the horror of seeing the level of destruction for himself. He took an instinctive step backwards, swallowing hard at the rise of bile in his throat, the terrible smell sparking a deep primal fear within him.

Bialar covered his mouth and nose in an attempt to filter the air he breathed. It didn't really work but he forced himself to ignore it and to examine the damage detachedly. The supports were twisted, some torn away from the bulkhead. The walls black with soot. The deck itself rippled. It was a nightmare, it had to be. Nothing more than a terrible, terrible dream.

Only it was not. Command; he needed to be in the command. There he might be able to teach Talyn's psyche, might be able to better assess the amount of repair work needed. He walked quickly out of the hanger and up the passageway. There was further evidence of the damage Talyn had taken all around him, but Bialar did not stop. He forced himself on, until he reached the door to the command.

His hope that he would get a stronger sense of Talyn here was quickly extinguished. The devastation here wrenched at his heart and he turned slowly, trying to take it all in. It was too much. He couldn't handle it and he sank to his knees, overwhelmed by grief.

"Talyn," he said, his voice breaking.

Then Ella was there, kneeling at his side and throwing her arms around his shoulders. Her wide grey eyes were pained, empathy at the suffering he felt. She said nothing as he grasped her, hanging on to her desperately, obviously understanding no words would help.

"He's gone," he croaked. "There's nothing... it's too much."

"No!" She denied emphatically. She cupped his cheek and brought his head up until he was forced to meet her eyes. "Don't give up on him, Bialar. We can restore him. I know we can."

"But..." He looked round, unable to see how. "He... I cannot sense him and I think... I think he is in some form of coma."

Ella nodded. "That would make sense; the biological systems were traumatised by the contained Starburst and he shut down to protect himself. It may be that his psyche is not as damaged as you think."

Bialar snorted. "Maybe, but the rest of the damage is not in my imagination," he said bitterly. "It will take a cycle to repair him."

"If it takes a cycle, then it takes a cycle," she said, her tone matter-of-fact. He looked at her sharply.

"You mean that, don't you?" he asked incredulously. He saw the answer in her eyes and the gentle smile she gave him. He was stunned, realising that this was the deal they had struck, that he was no longer alone.

"I do," she said firmly. "Not that I expect it to take quite that long." She looked round, her expression thoughtful. "I think you are too close to view him objectively. I think it looks worse than it truly is. And aren't there DRDs?"

"They are connected to his psyche."

"So we need to wake him up," she said with a nod. "But first of all we need basic systems operational. It would help to have the schematics."

Bialar smiled. "Ah but we do," he told her and she looked at him curiously. He tapped his head. "In here."

She blinked. "Seriously? You have the plans in your head?"

"It's how it works," he replied with a shrug. "I know Talyn probably better than I know myself. I know every passageway, every door. Every wire in every system."

"That is incredible," she murmured and he thought he caught an undertone of jealousy as well as amazement. "Well it would make things much easier if you can draw them up." She rose to her feet and Bialar watched her cross to one of the consoles. "Are any of systems working now? Other than life support, I mean."

"No. Ella..." He paused, then decided to needed to tell her the full truth. "What you do not understand is that I... I was forced to switch off his higher functions. The damage that was done by that, and by the Peacekeepers, is incalculable." He sighed. "It is not simply a case of patching him up and switching him back on."

"I did not think it would be that easy," she replied mildly. "Whatever problems forced your hand then will still need correcting."

He thought that was probably an understatement. "Indeed," he said heavily.

"Then I need to know exactly what did happen. And the schematics." She looked upwards and reached out to trail a hand over the internal structure, her eyes distant as she thought. "It is quite a challenge."

"But you think it is possible?" he asked and could not help the hope that crept into his voice.

She smiled at him. "I do. Though it may take some time. You have the plans, but how technical are you Bialar? I'm afraid you're going to have to get your hands dirty."

"I am not afraid of that," he retorted. "I may not excel at tech work, but I can learn."

Ella smiled. "Good. Then I suggest we return to the Demimel and you can draw up those schematics."

"I concur," Bialar said. He stood then, though he had to breathe deeply against a wash of dizziness. She must have seen something of his discomfort, because she immediately came to his side, one arm going around his waist.

"Bialar?"

"It more out of me than I thought it would," he said wryly.

She sighed but did not say anything. Her expression spoke volumes though. He shook his head slightly and lent against her on her, thankful for both her support and her silence. She had warned him, but he had been so sure he knew his body better. However he had not counted on the emotional exertion; that simply seeing the damage to Talyn would exhaust him to this degree.

"You need to rest," Ella said. "Come on. Let's get you back."

Bialar nodded, agreeing with that diagnosis fully. But at the door out of command he paused, turning slightly to give the room one final glance. Soon. He would rest and then draw up the schematics for Ella, plan with her how they were going to restore Talyn. Soon. It could not come soon enough. He sighed and, leaning heavily on her now, walked away.

For the microt.


	6. Chapter 5

Ella stood in the galley, hands braced on the work surface as she allowed her mind to wander. It had been perhaps a quarter arn since she and Bialar had returned to the Demimel. He was safely in bed, having frightened her by going terribly pale during the flight back. She had known the stress of seeing Talyn would be too much for him to cope with, but had he listened? Had he frell.

Why she was surprised by that, she did not know, only that because of his stubbornness he would have to stay in bed for a good couple of solar days. Should stay, she corrected herself. He was as unlikely to listen to her about that as he had been about her caution over Talyn.

The clatter of metal on the floor brought her sharply out of her introspection. The water she had set to warm was now boiling, the bubbling liquid having knocked the lid off the pan. She swore and turned off the heat. She could smell the khar, eye-wateringly bitter, and knew she had stewed the pods.

"Frell," she growled and tipped a little into a cup to taste. She winced at the mouthful. There was no rescuing it, so she dumped the pan into the sink and grabbed a clean one. She put more water on to warm and started grinding more pods.

Bialar Crais was a distraction. Even without being in the same frelling room. There was a small thought at the back of her mind that blaming him was somewhat churlish. It probably was, but she had not stewed khar since the first time she'd made it and the only reason she'd done it this time was because her thoughts had been decidedly elsewhere.

"Wretched man," she muttered.

"Ellandra," her AI said suddenly. There was an urgency to the metallic voice that immediately put her on edge. Were they discovered?

"What is it?" she asked. "Something on the scanner?"

"There is no danger," the AI reported. "Other than in what you are doing."

Ella frowned in confusion. "How do you mean?"

"Look at youself," Demi said. "Making khar as if he is just another refugee you have picked up. He is not. He is Crais, a Peacekeeper, one of their best. You might as well just hand yourself over to First Command now, because he will betray you. The moment you become something he can use, he will not hesitate to do so."

A cold finger of fear ran down Ella's spine and she shuddered. "No," she denied.

"You know it is true. Right now he needs you to restore Talyn. Once that is done, your usefulness will be surplus to requirement."

"You do not know that."

"I do know that. And so do you. He was a Peacekeeper, he still is in every way that counts. His only concerns are himself and the restoration of his ship."

The water was warm enough. Ella poured it into a cup and shook her head. "We have an understanding."

The AI snorted. "You understand nothing," it told her flatly. "Do you think he would not lie to get what he wants?"

For a moment she stood there, the cup in her numb fingers, as her deepest, darkest fears ran riot. But then she remembered the way he had looked at her that morning, only arns ago, and the gentleness of his kiss.

"You're wrong," she said softly, sure of that. "He could have had me earlier, Demi. Even injured as he is, I would have stood no chance had he decided to force me. He did not." She sighed. "I was a Peacekeeper. I changed. Give him the chance to do likewise. Believe me, he has already."

"I believe you are allowing your heart to rule your head."

She nodded slowly. "Possibly," she admitted. "I... I don't know. Sixteen cycles ago I was in love with him. And maybe I am allowing that to guide me more than I should, but..." She paused again. "But I cannot stop," she said in a low voice. "Any more than I can stop breathing. What I risk here affects no one but myself and it is a chance I am willing to take."

"Then you condemn yourself," the AI predicted darkly. "You will end up in Peacekeeper hands, in the Aurora Chair, or have your mind burnt out. You will suffer what Trevlan did to you again, and worse, if you will not abandon this venture."

Ella shuddered at the reference to Trevlan but refused to allow the bleak forecast to frighten her. "Demi, those things might happened anyway; I am a wanted criminal. How does my saving him change that? It does only if you believe he will betray me."

"I do not believe it," the AI said. "I know it."

"Then you're wrong." It was a cool, calm statement and she meant it. She knew Bialar would not betray her, if only because he believed he owed her too much. However, she knew there were other reasons, deeper and more pertinent, but she did not want to discuss that with a computer. "I don't want to hear any of this again Demi," she said as she headed towards Bialar's quarters, the cup of khar in her hand. "And do not question him. I want no interference. Trust me."

The AI sighed. "Fine. But do not expect sympathy when it blows up in your face."

She snorted at that and slapped the control to Bialar's quarters. Furiously angry at the AI, not the least because it had spoken some of her own fears aloud, she stalked into the room and then halted as her eyes fell on the bed. He had fallen asleep in the short time she had taken. He was half sat, a pen still grasped in his right hand and the pad he had been writing in had dropped from his other hand on to the floor.

A smile tugged at her mouth and the anger drained away at the sight of him. She walked over to the bed and placed the cup on the stand before perching on the edge of the mattress. The curls of his hair were awry. She reached out and brushed them off his face.

"Bialar?" she called softly. He stirred and then woke, blinking at her blearily.

"Hm?"

"You fell asleep," she informed him and took the cup, handing it to him. "Here. I made you a drink."

"Thank you." He took a sip, but his eyes did not leave her face and he stared at her over the rim. "What's the matter?" he asked after a microt.

She stiffened but gave him an innocent look. "How do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," he groused. "Ella, I may not be terribly good with people but I do recognise a look of annoyance when I see it. You are irritated at something." He paused and took another sip of his drink. "Or at someone."

Ella stared at him in consternation. She had been certain that was nothing of the annoyance she was feeling at Demi in her face. But she must have covered it badly, given he had read her so easily. She shook her head. "At something," she admitted finally. "But it doesn't matter."

"You mean it does, but you don't want to talk to me about it," he corrected evenly. "Am I correct?"

"It's more that you probably don't want to hear it," she said and then sighed, knowing there was no avoiding telling him.. "My AI doesn't trust you."

He snorted a laugh, and then promptly went into a coughing fit as he breathed in some of his drink. She took the cup of him quickly and then hit him on the back until he stopped. He took several deep breaths, then picked up the cup and took a mouthful.

"Your _computer _doesn't trust me?" he asked, his tone somewhere between incredulous and amused.

She gave him an apologetic shrug. "It's an artificial intelligence. I built and programmed it to think for itself, to a degree. But basically it is still just running calculations on known information and..." She looked at him. "Well, you have to admit that the information on your record doesn't exactly inspire confidence Bialar."

He stared at her and she braced herself, but then his mouth twisted slightly. "Perhaps not," he admitted. "Is it just a general mistrust or does it suspect I am plotting something."

"It suspects you will sell me out," she said quietly as he drained the last of the khar. His eyes met hers.

"Why would I do that?" he asked. His tone was lightly curious, but she knew him better than that and so heard the undercurrent of anger.

"That depends," she said and looked down at her hands, neatly folded in her lap. "It was more a case of opportunity. Given the right reason... Such as aid for Talyn..."

His eyes narrowed. "And you believe that?"

It was almost a statement and she wanted to deny it, but she found herself unwilling to lie to him. "I have to consider what I would do, if the Demimel was incapacitated," she told him. "I mean, really do, not just say I would only do things that would not affect others. I do not think I would care so much, not until later and then it would be too late."

"Ella," Bialar said. She looked at him and found he was gazing at her steadily. "Why would I go back when it was through doing that very thing that Talyn ended up damaged in the first place? Doesn't that strike you as a very foolish thing to do?"

"Yes," she whispered. It seemed obvious now he had said it. "I had forgotten that."

"As had your AI apparently."

She stared at her hands. "Sorry."

"For what, exactly? You are right about one thing – my history does give you little reason to trust me."

"I do," she said quickly, but he shook his head.

"You want to," he said quietly. "That is not the same thing. Don't." She had opened her mouth to argue but his tone was final. "No arguments, no apologies. But know this: I will never go back."

"I do," she said again. "Really. I know... I know it doesn't seem so, but I do know that." She paused as she tried to get her thoughts and feelings in order. It didn't help that he sat watching her, his eyes intent on her face. "It's just... I have a lot to loose here, Bialar. More than you know, and that makes me very wary." She looked at him. "Actually not so much wary, as quite frankly terrified."

"You are not the only one with much to loose," he said softly. "I have to trust you as well, Ella."

"And do you?" she asked, unable to help herself. He sat back with a sigh.

"To a degree," he allowed. "I certainly don't think you'd hand me over to the Peacekeepers, if only because you are wanted as well. And I have to trust in your abilities in order for Talyn to be restored. While you are safe, I do. It is what you would do if you were not that I don't trust."

It was a fair comment and she nodded slowly. He glanced round then, obviously looking for something. She remembered the pad and and bent down to pick it up off the floor.

"Ah, so that's where it went," he said. The pad had fallen open and Ella couldn't help but notice the pages were covered in writing. "Notes on Talyn's systems. I'll need larger paper to draw up the schematics."

"I'm sure I can get some," she said as she glanced over what he'd written. Or rather, scrawled. He'd obviously put things down as they'd come to mind and it took her a microt to make logical sense of what he'd written. She looked up from the pad at him. "Notes?"

"Rough notes," he amended ruefully. "There is a lot to cover."

She smiled in amusement. "Obviously." She turned over a page and found a diagram of... she turned the pad round.

"Biologics centre," Bialar supplied.

"Ah." Now she saw it. And it actually made sense once she'd adjusted to his somewhat chaotic style. She supposed a difference to her own plans was only to be expected; she'd had technical training after all and that tended to be remote and clinical. This drawing came from Bialar's unique viewpoint, which was anything but remote. Personal and more... organic. It was, she realised, probably very indicative of the link between man and machine.

"Can you understand it?" he asked then. "I realise it's a little... disorganised."

Ella smiled at that understatement. "Oddly, yes," she said as she flicked through the pages after the drawing. The description of the higher functions caught her eye, and she stopped to read over it. For all he had claimed the notes as being rough, there was enough detail that she could get a good way through the system.

"We need Chromextin," he told her. "As well as wire to replace what's been burnt. There's probably more on top of that."

"Probably. It is going to take a while."

He sighed and leaned back, his eyes closing. "I know," he said, and his voice was tired. "Though what we need to do is just get basic systems functioning and Talyn in a comfortable state."

"I can talk to Frisnik about the Chromextin."

"Your contact?"

"Yes." Even as she said it, Ella saw the barest shift in his expression. "He's trustworthy, Bialar."

His eyes opened. "Are you sure about that?"

"Very. I'd trust him with my life." She cast a sideways glance at him. "In fact, I have done. Frisnik was the one who got me off Halden Station."

"Then I have much to thank him for." His tone was offhand and for a microt she felt a surge of anger; it shouldn't have been Frisnik that saved her, it should have been him, she had waited for him, and... She took a breath, held it, and then let it and the anger go.

"You have," she said simply. He was watching her with the intent look she was learning meant he knew she was hiding something. She gave a slight shake of her head. "Not now."

"Ah," he said heavily. She could tell he wanted to ask but he somehow managed not to. Instead he took the pad from her. "This needs work."

"If you were going to do anything, you could draw up the schematics. But I have a better idea."

He looked curious. "Which is what?"

"Get some rest." She gave him a stern look. "I won't have you overdoing things. Least because I'm the one who'd have to put you back together and once was enough."

"I am fine," he argued.

"Of course. That'll be why you were asleep when I got back," she said pointedly. He gave her a rueful smile and tilted his head in acknowledgement. "Just... take it easy, Bialar. I know you're eager to get Talyn back online but... Oh, you know. And I suppose you'll do precisely what you want regardless of what I say." She gave up trying to persuade him and stood. "I'm going to contact Frisnik," she told him.

She felt his eyes on her as she walked across the room. She had little doubt he would totally ignore her advice; his desire to restore Talyn was too strong. Eventually he would realise it couldn't be rushed. She could only hope he'd not completely exhausted himself before that happened.

* * *

For a few microts guilt kept Bialar to the bed, but then the silence and the frustration were too pressing. He got up and went to the window, telling himself that was all he was going to do. His sight was still not improved enough to see Talyn clearly. Which might be something to feel grateful for.

Contained Starburst. By all rights, they should have been torn apart, should never have survived. Yet here they were. Though the Peacekeepers thought they were dead. Bialar rested his forehead against the cold glass and, for the first time, allowed himself to consider those who were probably mourning them. Moya, Pilot... Aeryn. They would mourn Talyn, if not him. He wondered if they'd gotten off the Carrier. He wondered what Aeryn had done, given the Crichton she was left with was not the one she had loved. And Scorpius?

Bialar wondered if he had finally been successful in revenging himself on the halfbreed. He did not know. He realised it was possible that he would never learn that. He opened his eyes again, his gaze going beyond Talyn, where the stars blurred as his vision failed him. Somewhere out there... It hurt him to think of Aeryn. They might have always been on the wrong foot, but she had forgiven him in the end. And she had loved Talyn almost as dearly as he had.

Suddenly the silence of the room was too much. It allowed the ghosts of memory to haunt and he shivered. He pushed away from the window and the past, striding across to the door. Ella could shout at him, would but he didn't care because that would be better than the suffocating quiet.

The door to the bridge was open and he could hear her voice, low and rough as she spoke over the comm. "I know," she was saying to some question he had missed. "But I knew when... when I made the decision, Frisnik. This was my choice." She sounded sad, her words halting and he realised she was struggling to keep her emotions in check.

"I wasn't aware anyone was that important to you Ellandra." The voice over the comm was gruff, almost bitter. Bialar edged to the doorway and glanced in. She was stood behind the only seat and he got the impression she had been pacing. She ran a hand over her head.

"I did not tell you everything," she told Frisnik. "You always knew that."

"I knew you were running from something and running hard," Frisnik replied. Bialar wondered what that was, and whether it had anything to do with him. He had the creeping sensation that it had been. Then Frisnik spoke again. "I know whatever you were waiting for failed to appear."

Bialar lent on the frame. Him. She had waited for him. But he'd thought her dead and so...

"It didn't," Ella said, interrupting his thoughts. "It just took longer to get to me than I thought it would."

"And was it worth that wait?"

Soft laughter. "I would have waited a lifetime, Frisnik." He felt his heart lurch at that comment. "So yes, it was. Fris... you know you were only keeping me for a little while. My path always lay elsewhere. Now. Can you get me what I need?"

Frisnik sighed. "Aye, dear heart. I can get you Chromextim, though possibly not as much as you asked for. Is there anything else?"

"Yes; wiring and chakan oil." She looked thoughtful. "And if you can swing me a rifle primer, I will love you forever."

"Liar," Frisnik said humorously. "Give me an arn, Ellandra, and I will do my level best."

"Thank you, Fris." She reached out and closed the comm. Then she turned round and looked directly at Bialar. "Did you hear enough?"

He was caught. Wincing at the expression on her face, he stepped into the room. "I did not mean to eavesdrop, but you were in conversation and I did not want to interrupt and..."

"You thought you might learn something," she said flatly, obviously less concerned about interrupting. She folded her arms. "So how much did you overhear?"

He shrugged and walked into the room. He ran his fingers lightly over the bank of instruments, marvelling at the ship. And Ella had built this. "Enough," he said as he turned to look at her. She stared at him, her gaze challenging even as a slight flush crept into her cheeks. "It sounded like a farewell. You mentioned running. Are you planning to do that again?"

"Afraid I might leave you?" Her voice was arched and bitter.

Bialar spread his hands in a placating gesture. "Did I say that? I am just curious as to what you plan and at what point I was to be consulted."

"At which point did I start needing to report to you?" she said incredulously. "I will do whatever it takes to keep us safe. Both of us. I have known Frisnik for fourteen cycles and-" Her voice broke and she turned away, but not before he had caught the betraying glimmer in her eyes.

"And?" he said softly.

She threw a baleful glare over her shoulder. "And he is the closest thing I have to family. And because of you I have to forgo that."

"Me?" he said, startled at that. "Why, what did I do?"

"You survived."

The accusation hit low; an almost physical blow that made him gasp. Pain flared across his ribs. "I thought that is what you wanted?" He knew it sounded desperate but couldn't help feeling like the ground had shifted. "Why else would you save me?"

For a moment it hung between them, then Ella sighed heavily. "I knew what I was doing. I knew what it would cost me. But it is not easy, Bialar." She looked up then and the pain etched on her face tore at his heart. "I don't regret what I did. It's not that I want you dead but I... For you to live, I have to give up my life. I have to leave behind everything. And while I will do that, it is not easy."

Bialar stood in froze shock. "You'd do that for me?" he asked in sheer amazement. "Why?"

She snorted and gave him another glare. "Why do you think?" she said, her tone bitterly self-depreciating.

"I have no idea," he said honestly. She shook her head.

"Because I was stupid."

"You were not stupid," he corrected her automatically. "You just did stupid things."

"Yes, well, I am still doing them." She gave him a brittle smile that did not hide the pain in her eyes. And he felt as shock as he realised why. What he didn't know was what to do about that. He took a step back, trying to give her space.

"I do not know what to say," he admitted truthfully.

"Then don't say anything," she said softly. Her anger fled, that much was obvious in the way she sagged suddenly. She sat on the bed with a sigh. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said all that. It isn't your fault and it wasn't fair to blame you."

He looked down at his feet for a microt as he sorted his thoughts out. "You obvious hold me somewhat responsible," he said slowly. He brought his gaze to her pale face. "To be honest I prefer you yelling at me than lying, Ella. I understand now why you are so angry with me and-"

"I'm not," she protested.

"Let me finish," he requested quietly. For a microt he thought she would argue further, but then she looked away and made a small motion with her hand. "Thank you. I know you chose this path Ella, but that does not make it easier. That much is clear. And you are angry with me, no matter if that anger is misplaced. I understand; you are giving everything up for me. And I think I know why." This last was said hesitantly. She looked at him sharply, raw emotion on her face. He held her gaze. "I know why. Ella... I have nothing... in return for what you offer me. I can make no promises. Life is too uncertain and I would not have circumstances make a liar of me. Other than one thing."

"Which is what?" she asked, her voice a rough whisper.

He walked over and stopped directly in front of her, cupping her face gently as she looked up at him. Her eyes widened, utter vulnerability in their grey depths. "I swear on my life that I will protect you," he told her earnestly. "And I promise that your sacrifices will not be in vain."

She gazed at him and a flurry of emotions crossed her face. Tears glimmered, but then she gave a small, tremulous smile. "That's two things," she pointed out. It was true and he smiled slightly in response. He stroked her cheek with his thumb and she let out a shuddering breath. She took his hand, removed it from her cheek and studied it. "However, I do not need your protection."

He flinched and tried to snatch his hand away but her grip was tighter than he expected. She looked up and he stilled at the look on her face.

"I don't say that to insult you," she said softly. "But I have survived on my own for sixteen cycles Bialar. I have learnt to protect myself."

He regarded her and then nodded once. "I have no doubt," he replied. "The offer still stands, however. I will not rescind it."

A smile flickered over her mouth and she released his hand. "You are a stubborn man," she retorted, a wry humour in her tone. "I am sure you'll do just as you please and that I will have little to say in the matter."

He blinked at that and then gave a short laugh. Stepping away, he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head at her in amusement. The flare of defiance was much more like the woman he remembered and he was glad to see the cycles had not diminished her spirit.

"An arn?" he asked her. Her eyes narrowed.

"You're staying here," she said flatly.

He arched an eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Yes, really. I am not risking you – us – down there. There'll be a frelling riot if they recognise you."

Bialar tilted his head and spread his hands out. "And they're going to?"

"It's not just appearance," she snapped. "Your very manner screams military training. And why do you want to go down anyway?"

"I'm curious," he replied mildly. He gave her a small smile. "And as you pointed out, you have little to say in the matter. You know very well I will have the last word on this Ella."

She glared at him, her mouth a bitter line. "Fine," she said, her tone grudging. "But you keep your mouth shut and don't frelling start anything."

He gave her an innocent look. "Me?"

"Oh yotz."

* * *

As ideas went, this was a bad one. Ella glanced over at Bialar, noted the determined set to his face and sighed. Talking him out of going down to Ukh-Neza-Du obviously wasn't going to work and she got up with a resigned sigh and went to the desk. Opening up the top drawer, she pulled out his pulse pistol and holster, then turned to him. His expression changed slightly when he saw the weapon, but she was not sure what that look meant.

"I wanted to space it," she told him quietly. "I dislike guns. I dislike the Peacekeeper tendency to use violence to solve a problem. However I'm not so stupid as to leave us defenceless."

She held the pistol out and he took from her, pulling it from the holster to check the power level. Ella knew it was almost fully charged and watched him nod slightly and place it on the bed. A shiver ran through her as he strapped the holster to his leg; the offhand, practised way he rearmed himself was a cold reminder of what he had been. What, to a large degree, he still was and she was no longer sure he would ever loose that edge.

He picked up the pistol, then caught her gaze and halted at whatever he saw in her face. "Last resort only," he assured her and slid the pistol in. "I promise."

"It better had be," she said shortly. "Listen; Peacekeepers are not popular but you do remotely pass as a civilian. Just... try and blend? The population is mixed and the market is always busy, so hopefully we can slip through unnoticed. But it is also fairly quiet, so someone firing a pistol is going to attract attention."

"I will only use it if threatened," he replied in an even tone. "Which would mean we'd already have attracted attention. Relax, Ella. I do know what I'm doing."

"I wish I did."

The marketplace was heaving. Ella looked the crowds and then glanced at Bialar. He was stood with his hand resting on the grip of his pistol. She closed her eyes; how had she ever thought this would work?

"Stop it," she groused at him.

"What?" he asked, his expression bewildered.

She sighed. "Never mind. Come on; lets get this over and done with. The sooner we're off this planet, the better."

Walking through the crowd, she found herself getting more tense by the microt. She was aware of every look and glance, and became convinced that every conversation involved Bialar and his identity.

"Would you please try and relax?" he muttered under his breath. "You're drawing attention."

She glared at him. "How, exactly?" She pitched her voice low, but was still terribly aware that they were basically stood in the middle of the market and there were eyes all round. Her skittering gaze fell on a tall Luxan male who seemed to be heading towards them and began to panic.

Bialar must have seen it because he grabbed her elbow, his grip tight to the point of painfulness. "Move," he said, his tone brooking no argument.

Ella found herself propelled through the marketplace. His stride was longer than hers and she had to jog slightly to keep up as when she lagged his fingers dug into her skin, pressing on the nerves and causing pain to lance up her arm. She gasped and noted that, while their passage definitely drew attention, no one interfered.

Her hand had gone numb by the time they reached the alley when Frisnik's shop was located. Bialar did not release her until they were at the door and the crowed market was well behind them. She glared at him as she massaged her elbow, trying to get the blood flowing.

"What the frell was that about?" she snapped at him, utterly furious.

"You were starting to panic," he explained. "I didn't intend to hurt you until I realised it was holding you in check. Anger can sometimes be a useful thing."

He was completely unrepentant, she realised. She lowered her hand from her arm, barely able to breathe because of how angry she was. "What gives you the right?" she hissed at him.

"I promised to protect you," he replied, his tone mild. "That includes from yourself."

For a microt, words failed her. Then she stepped up to him and grabbed the front of his tunic with one hand. The other she fisted and jammed her knuckles against his ribs. He gasped and paled, pain sparking in his eyes.

"As I said," she told him in a low, deadly calm voice. "I do not need your protection. Nor handling as if I were a child. Do that again and you will regret it."

He nodded once and she released him, noting with dark satisfaction that he stumbled just slightly. She turned away and pushed into Frisnik's shop.

* * *

It took Bialar several microts to recover from Ella's attack. His chest ached, aftershocks of pain tingling through his nerves, and he took shallows breaths to lessen the effect. Not only had it hurt, but the viciousness of it had shocked him as he had never seen that in her before. He wondered what she had experienced to have learnt such a defence.

He pushed the door open and stepped into the cool of the shop. After the brightness outside, it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dim light. Ella stood at the counter talking to a bald, overweight Sebacean male. The man looked up as the bell over the door settled but Ella did not turn.

"Ignore him," Ella said to the man, her tone dismissive. "Hired guard."

It was a good attempt but Bialar could see he was not fooled for a microt. "Dren," he snorted. "Unless the Peacekeepers have started hiring out renegades."

They were discovered. Bialar's hand dropped automatically to his pistol and he strode towards the counter. Ella spun and grabbed his arm before he could draw the weapon. She also blocked his path. He glared at her, but she returned it with a wide-eyed look of horror and gave him a slight shake of her head.

"No," she said, her voice soft. Then she glanced over her shoulder. "Frisnik..."

The man was staring, having witnessed the drama with no small shock. Frisnik's gaze met Bialar's and his eyes narrowed as if weighing him up. "Oh relax, the pair of you," he said derisively. "I wouldn't say anything even if there was someone who would frelling well believe me anyway."

Bialar stared at him for a microt longer, still wary. Ella murmured his name and he looked down at her. There was quiet terror in her expression. "Don't," she pleaded quietly. "It's alright."

He lifted his hand clear of the pistol and she sagged against him with a sigh of relief. Then her head snapped up and he saw the anger return with a vengeance. She shot him a furious glare and then turned back to the counter.

"I know you wouldn't say anything," she said to the man, her tone cool as if nothing had happened.

Frisnik was busy eyeing Bialar appraisingly. "So is this him then?" he said. Bialar was startled; obviously she had spoken about him and he couldn't help but wonder what had been discussed. She murmured an affirmative, her face was tightly guarded, and Frisnik nodded slowly.

"Be careful, my dear." It was earnestly spoken and again Bialar found himself pinned by the man's steely gaze.

"I'm always careful," Ella replied, sounding more like her normal self. "Let me have the purchases and then I can get out of here. I would have you put in any danger."

"I wish you would look more to your own concerns," Frisnik told her but he disappeared into the back, returning a moment later with a wheeled trolley laden with crates. "Here you go, Skye. Everything you asked for except half of the chromextim. I have that waiting at Sheldar."

"That's fine. I can make Sheldar and back in a solar day." She began to hand over payment but the change in arrangement rankled Bialar and he placed one hand over Ella's. He levelled a long look at Frisnik and then went to the crates. "Bialar!" she snapped at him.

"The arrangement was for everything," he reminded her as he opened the uppermost crate.

She grabbed his arm. "Quit it," she hissed at him, mortified at what he was doing. "It's fine."

"Then Frisnik will not mind my checking, will he?" He glanced at the man.

Frisnik was leaning on the counter watching the exchange with interest. "Go ahead," he said magnanimously.

Ella kicked Bialar's shin, making him wince and he glared at her. "He might not," she said darkly. "But I do. Now frelling stop it. Everything is fine."

"You don't know that." He knew the kind of things that could be hidden away, dangerous things and he would not have her endangered.

"Yes, I frelling do!" she yelled at him and shoved him hard. "Frisnik has never cheated me. I trust him!"

Bialar watched her slam the lid back on the crate. "I hope that is not misplaced," he said as she gave the now wide-eyed merchant an apologetic look.

"I'm so sorry Fris," she said. "I know it's all fine."

"Oh, I'm so glad for you." Bialar was not pleased but he did not try to interfere with the payment a second time. He noted Ella's face was pale and that her hand shook as she handed over the credits.

Frisnik noticed it also. "Skye?" he enquired softly.

"It is fine," she said, her tone insistent. She hauled the trolley to the door and struggled to get it through. Bialar took a step to help, but she shot him a furious glare and he subsided. Maybe it would be better to give her time and space to calm down.

He watched the door swing shut, vaguely aware of Frisnik opening a section in the counter and walking into the shop area. He was too worried about Ella though, fearing he may have pushed her too hard. Then something hard and cold prodded into his ribs and he turned.

Frisnik stood, feet apart and perfectly balanced against the weight of the pulse rifle he held. It had been the end that had pressed into Bialar's chest and he stared down the length at the patiently annoyed man. He lifted his hands in mute surrender.


	7. Chapter 6

The plaster was cool under Ella's forehead as she lent against the wall, trying to calm her shredded nerves. The anger at Bialar and the fright he had given her had passed, leaving her weak and trembling. She had seen murder in his eyes and, while she understood his desire to protect himself and her, it had been too close a call for any comfort.

She took a deep breath and pushed off the wall. She needed to get back inside, before Bialar changed his mind and did something drastic. It was too quiet for her liking and she pushed the door open. Only to come to a dead stop when she saw the rifle in Frisnik's hands, the muzzle at Bialar's chest as he stood against the wall, hands up.

"F-Frisnik?" she stuttered, feeling faint. "What the frell are you doing?"

"Making one or two things clear to your... patient," he stated coolly. The end of the rifle dropped down. "Like how I'll blow his mivoks off if he ever hurts you again."

"Oh yotz." She rubbed her face, able to see this situation getting out of hand and rapidly so. "I said it was fine," she pointed out.

"Ellandra, dear heart," Frisnik said to her in a patient tone. "You are the closest thing I have to a daughter. Therefore it is my job as your adoptive father to make sure that any men you..." - and he eyed Bialar suspiciously - "associate with are clear on the regulations."

"Oh," she said. Her shock passed and she found herself having to fight amusement. "It's... not quite like that Fris."

"It might not be. Yet. Nevertheless, we shall start on certain understandings no?"

This was aimed at Bialar. Ella looked at him and, though his expression was bland, she saw the anger simmering in his narrowed eyes. He nodded slowly.

"I understand," he said, his voice curt.

She should have stopped it there. But Bialar could easily overpower Frisnik; the fact he had not even tried was interesting. She wandered to the counter and hitched herself up to sit on it. She looked at Frisnik.

"Do you think he really does or is that a lie?" she asked curiously. She caught how Bialar's gaze snapped to her from the corner of her eye and tried not to smile.

"I don't know, Frisnik said in a thoughtful tone. "How do you suggest we test him?"

She pursed her lips and pretended to give it some thought, all the time aware of the darkening expression on Bialar's face. It took less time for him to crack than she thought it would.

"Ella," he said in a tight voice. "This is not amusing."

"I think it's quite funny, actually," she replied and gave him a grin. He opened his mouth but Frisnik moved infinitesimally and cut him off.

"Mind your manners, sonny," he said darkly. "Now. I think you have something to say."

She watched him consider his options. He looked at her and she raised an eyebrow. He gave another nod and sighed. "I apologise for grabbing your arm before. And for not trusting your judgement."

"Doesn't sound sorry, does he?" Frisnik said with a sniff. "Should I make him?"

"No," Ella said quickly. For all her anger she did not want Bialar harmed, and it was time to end this. "Don't worry, Frisnik; I am more than capable of dealing with this one."

She slid off the counter and sauntered over to Bialar, seeing the flicker of annoyance in his eyes. Glancing down at where the butt of the rifle was pressed threateningly, she allowed a smile to curve her lips. Then she looked up again. "You embarrassed me," she told him, her voice quiet but hard. "More than that, you didn't trust me and nearly took a life. You said it was last resort, Bialar. It didn't take long for you to forget that promise and I have to wonder how quickly you'd dismiss others if they became inconvenient."

The look in his eyes faded and he shook his head slightly. "It was an automatic reaction and one I regret," he said to her softly. "I realised that the microt you stood in my way. And as to the other... you will never become an inconvenience to me Ella."

Her mouth went dry at his tone. She swallowed and glanced away, waving a hand. "Let him be, Frisnik," she said in a thick voice. "I think you made your point."

"Not quite yet," he retorted and she watched in horror as he lifted the end of the rifle to aim directly at Bialar's heart. "You listen closely," he said to him. "I know in a few days she will disappear. I know, because she's done it before and I can see it in her eyes. The last time she had to run, she came back in pieces. You will not allow that to happen again."

"Frisnik," Ella interrupted, feeling the heat of embarrassment in her face.

"No child, he needs to hear this. Because what did you say? That I was only keeping you for a little while, wasn't it? Until three cycles ago I never imagined that you would leave. But then I learnt that Captain Bialar Crais had gone renegade... and then I knew for certain you would." He shifted position slightly. Ella yelped and grabbed the rifle, staring at Frisnik desperately.

"No!"

There was a very long moment in which she just stood there, her heart racing wildly. Then Frisnik looked at Bialar and tilted his head. He pulled the rifle away and Ella nearly collapsed in relief.

"There," Frisnik said, his voice curiously satisfied. "There you have it Crais."

She shot him a glare, but then a gentle hand settled on her back. She turned to Bialar, all too aware of what he would be able to read in her face but too shocked to cover it. She stared up at him and found herself pinned by an intense gaze that ripped through into her very soul. Then he looked at Frisnik and she closed her eyes.

"I understand," Bialar said again, but this time his words were heavy with meaning. Ella knew an oath when she heard one and threw him a reproving glare.

"Oh, don't," she said darkly. But Frisnik was nodding and both seemed to have forgotten her existence.

"Good," Frisnik said in a satisfied voice and then turned to Ella. "You be careful."

A lump rose in her throat. She had to leave. She might never see him again. Ella moved quickly, throwing her arms around the startled Frisnik's neck. "I will," she promised huskily. "Thank you."

"No need, dearest. No need." She found herself untangled gently and then Bialar's arm curved around her waist.

"Come on," he murmured.

Ella could not move. Something inside gave and she felt tear well. "No."

"Dear heart, you must," Frisnik told her and Bialar drew her closer.

"We need to go. The longer we remain..."

She knew he was right but she just couldn't do this. Her life had never been certain, but Frisnik had been the one constant thing aside from her ship and she couldn't leave. She gave Bialar a pleading look. "I..."

He cupped her cheek, stilling her lips with his thumb. She gazed up at him. He said nothing, but the quiet sympathy in his eyes told her that he knew. She had known it would come to this, but it was so much of a wrench. She looked away, wanting to deny the need to leave, and noticed that Frisnik had gone back behind the counter. It seemed to sum up the separation.

"I will be back," she told him earnestly.

"Don't make promises you can't keep Ellandra," Frisnik said sadly. "Crais, get her out of here before I make an utter fool of myself."

"Yes," he said and eased her toward the door. She had to go with him, because her legs were trembling and he was the only thing keeping her from collapsing. "If you don't walk, I'll carry you."

At that threat Ella found herself jerking upright, a microt before realising that was exactly the reaction he had intended. She gave him a startled look and he smirked, though his eyes were still sad.

"I can manage," she told him and stepped outside without a backwards glance.

* * *

Red dust swirled as the transporter engines raced. Bialar frowned at the unfamiliar controls and wished he had pay more attention when Ella had flown the vessel, rather than just watching her do so. He glanced at her, curled in the co-pilot's chair with her feet tucked up. She was staring dully out of the viewscreen, her face pale and drawn.

He had the urge to reach out to her, but was uncertain as how she would react. She was deeply grieved and he could not help but feel somewhat responsible for that. He was also worried at the fact it had taken far less persuasion to talk her into letting him fly back than he'd expected.

"Ella?" he tried softly. She gave a sigh and glanced at him, a dead look in her eyes. Bialar shuddered and pulled back on the control; he needed to get her away from here. The dust obscured the view as the ship lifted off.

"I was wondering," he said as the transporter soared upwards, "whether to fly directly to Talyn. Most of the supplies are bound for him anyway."

"Yes," she said, her voice barely audible. "I suppose."

"Unless you would rather be back on the Demimel," he said. "Ella, I-"

"It's fine," she said, the slight annoyance the first colour her tone had had for a while. She looked at him then and he saw her smile bravely. "You are right; the supplies are mostly for Talyn so it seems a waste of time to go to Demimel. You have those notes with you?"

"Yes, but-"

"We might as well make a start then."

"If you're sure," he said. He was fairly sure she was being too off-hand.

"I'm all right, Bialar," she said with a soft sigh. "Or I will be. It's better if I keep busy."

He understood that. "As you wish. There is plenty to do on Talyn to keep your mind and hands occupied for the better part of a cycle."

"Bialar?"

He smiled at her. "Yes?"

"Could you miss that asteroid please?"

He jerked round in the chair, having completely forgotten he was supposed to be flying the damn vessel. There was indeed a large rock ahead of them and he yanked hard on the control. The engines shrieked a protest but the transporter did swerve to one side and the asteroid passed harmlessly. He straightened their flight path and then threw Ella an apologetic look.

"Sorry. I'm used to having a ship that thinks for itself."

"What is it like?" she asked in a wistful tone.

He thought he heard something like jealousy in her tone. "Hard to explain," he replied. Not only because he missed the contact and talking about it was like rubbing a raw wound.

Ella sighed and looked away. "Fine, if you don't want to talk about it, I'm not going to force you. Maybe you could explain why the frell Talyn is in that state."

"Contained-"

"Starburst, yes I know that." She shot him a glare and he realised she needed to be talking, needed to be thinking about anything other than the man she had left behind. Her family. So with that in mind it was easy, because that had been about his. Maybe it would help her to know.

"It started three cycles ago. Well, actually, before that, but... but this part... I was captaining a fleet including several Leviathan prison ships. The prisoners on one of them broke free, released the Control Collar. Of course, High Command weren't going to think very highly of me, so I had all Prowlers scrambled, trying to regain control." He stared out of the viewscreen, remembering a different pattern of stars and a different ship. "It was chaos, utter chaos. And into the middle of the whole thing, there was... a wormhole... from another... galaxy I think. I never really found out. It didn't really matter. I... my brother was out in a Prowler... the wormhole brought with it a ship and they..." He stopped, throat closing over as even after all this time it still hurt.

"What happened?" Ella asked him, her tone soft and somewhat fearful. A glance at her face made Bialar suspect she already knew.

"They collided," he said heavily. "The merest of touches, but my brother lost control and crashed." He swallowed. "Into an asteroid, as it happens. He was killed instantly."

"Oh!" For a microt, she said nothing else, then she reached out across the space between them and put her hand on his. "Oh, Bialar, I am so sorry."

"It was a long time ago," he aid, his voice rough. "Only... only then I blamed the pilot of the other ship. I was stupid and... by pursuing him, by pursuing revenge I lost everything. My own fault, I know that now. I lost my command to Scorpius, and oddly the only person I could turn to was the man I had blamed Tauvo's death on."

"Tauvo?" she asked. "Your brother?"

"Yes. My younger brother. I was supposed to protect him." He still felt guilty about that, he discovered. "As I was supposed to protect Talyn."

The gunship was ahead of the transporter now. It was no easier seeing him a second time, but the shock was not as great and Bialar found his hands barely shook as he piloted the ship into the hanger.

There was a loud clank as he set the transporter down, his landing not quite as artful as Ella's had been. He glanced at her but her expression was distantly thoughtful and he wasn't sure she'd even noticed his slight mishap. He stood up and went into the rear section.

The crates were under a net of webbing that was hooked at several points to the floor. The net held them tight and so they had not been disturbed by either his erratic flying or the non-too-gentle landing. He squatted and began to release the clips that fastened the net.

"Leave that for now," Ella instructed. He glanced round and watched her reach up to a storage locker. She removed a large black bag and swung it over one shoulder and then looked at him. "One thing at a time, Bialar. And I'm thinking light might be a really good thing to start with."

He supposed she had a point and stood stiffly. She sidled past him and activated the hatch. The faint stench of burning wafted in. "Then environmentals," she added in a sour tone.

"Yes, clean air would be good," he replied. Ella stood at the hatch for a moment, then huffed and shot him a look.

"Main core?" Her tone was arched and he quickly recalled that she didn't have a mental map of this ship in her head and therefore didn't automatically know the way.

"Sorry. Ah... this way." He stepped out of the transporter and led her down the passageways to where the heart of Talyn lay.

The centralised position of the main core meant that it wasn't as damaged as the outer sections. Ella looked round, the beam of her flashlight picking out the dead consoles and the particles of smoke and dust that hung in the air. It was very still, the air stale and the shadows deep. She crossed the the main console and unslung her bag. She knelt and wrenched off the underside panel, wincing at the mess of wiring inside.

"Hm, no wonder nothing works." She unzipped her bag, found her case of tools from within and unclipped it, taking out a wire cutter. "Notes," she ordered Bialar, holding out her left hand as she scanned the wires. She felt the slight weight of the book as he placed it wordlessly into her hand. She shifted position, sitting with her legs crossed and placed the book open in her lap.

With her flashlight between her teeth and the reference in front of her, Ella worked quickly and silently. She was aware of Bialar watching her every move, aware of the tension emanating from him, but she focused solely on the puzzle in front of her.

"Ha." She sat back as light flooded the room, grinning up at Bialar as it hadn't even taken her a quarter arn and she was somewhat impressed with herself. He looked surprised, then glanced round the room. She did likewise.

Lit, the damage to Talyn seemed at once better and worse, as while the shadows had could have hidden areas that were now revealed as untouched, the actual level of damage was clearer. They had a lot to do. She wondered how capable Bialar was but that wasn't a question she was going to ask right now, not given the look on his face.

Ella decided it was high time they had cleaner air and reviewed his notes, tracking the environmental system. She sliced out a section of burnt wiring and replaced it. There was a low, echoing sigh as she connected the last wire, followed by the sound of rushing air. A soft breeze touched her face and she shivered; it was if the ship itself was breathing.

"There," she said quietly. "That's better."

Bialar wandered past her, his eyes on the ruined bulkhead. She watched him reach up, his face distant and she wondered if he was attempting to reach Talyn. He looked so lost that she forgot about her own loss. All she wanted to do was heal the hurt she saw in his eyes.

Yet he had told her about the damage done to Talyn's consciousness and while she wanted to reconnect them, she knew it was too dangerous for the moment. She had little idea how she was going to repair the ship's psyche as the notes did not cover it. It would be a test of her own ability, and in reality they needed a Leviathan technician but she knew Bialar would never allow that.

"What are you doing now?" he asked her then and she looked up.

"Nothing, except I was wondering about Talyn's psyche and whether it'd impinge on you too much if I brought him online enough to access the DRDs."

He looked uncertain. "I do not know. The last time... the last time I suffered no effects. And I suppose we could do with the extra help."

"Exactly," she agreed. "Having the DRDs would cut down a great deal on our workload. Plus they can work when we need to go back to the Demimel."

"Why do we need to go back?" he asked in confusion.

"Not now." Ella rolled her eyes. "But eventually... to eat and sleep."

"Oh! Yes, I suppose... yes."

She chuckled and held out her hand. "Help me up?" He took her hand and she hauled herself upright. She maintained her grip on his hand as she worked out the stiffness in her legs. "Oww, numb. Ooh I'm going to know about that in a few microts."

"Why did you sit like that then?" he asked, bemused. She grinned at him.

"Habit, I guess." She let go of his hand and rubbed at her aching thighs. "So the DRDs?"

He leant past her and braced himself on the console. "How much is operational?"

"Ah... that one and that," she told him, pointing. "And whatever that is over there."

"That's the one I need." Bialar pressed the buttons in some sequence known only to himself. There was an very faint hum and something prickled over Ella's skin. She shuddered and rubbed at her arms. "Static," he explained with a grin. "Means it's working."

"Excellent." She looked around. "Right, Command then?"

"Yes. I think we should get the comms online. I know you're in contact with Demi, but it won't hurt to have a second line of communication."

"Agreed."

Ella took Bialar's arm and they started to Command. They hadn't gone very far when he paused. Something crossed his face and she waited, watched as he stood there, his mind obviously elsewhere. He looked at her then, a slight edge to his expression that made her frown in response.

"What?" she asked warily.

"What else did you do?" It was almost an accusation. She blinked and shook her head.

"Nothing more than I told you," she replied. "Why? What's wrong?"

"I am... unsure. And I didn't say it was wrong as such but..." He trailed off, his gaze shifting up the passageway. Ella folded her arms and waited. Though after several microts she gathered he'd lost his train of thought, possibly even forgotten he was speaking.

"But what?" she prompted. "Or, put another way; is it something dangerous?"

Bialar turned back and scratched his head. "I don't think so. Then again, I don't even know what it is. Could be anything. Or nothing. Maybe it was always there and I never noticed because Talyn is... loud."

Ella lifted an eyebrow. "Well that was enlightening," she noted sarcastically. "Come on."

* * *

When he was seven cycles old, Bialar had broken an arm after falling out of a tree. For six weekens he had worn a cast as the bone had healed; a hard wrapping under which his skin had itched abominably. He had a very similar sensation currently.

Ella's repair of Talyn's systems was bringing the ship awake by minute degrees. The awareness was not enough that Bialar could touch Talyn's mind, but almost and the flutter of it was driving him to distraction. The static was a constant pressure, like the build of an oncoming storm. It made his skin itch and his head ache.

He ran a hand through his hair, dislodging the tether that held it in place. He sighed and set to retying it as he watched Ella work. To a degree he had forgotten how good a tech she was, how fascinating it was to watch her. It wasn't simply the ability to follow plans; she had an intuitive understanding of how a system should work. He shouldn't have forgotten as it was displaying this ability that had gotten her into trouble with Trevlan, had started the whole sorry saga of their separation.

The silence made the itch worse, so he wandered over to the console. "You know, I still think you have very talented hands."

Her hands stopped. She threw a look over her shoulder, amusement glittered in her eyes. "I did know, yes."

"I thought you didn't know much about Leviathans," he added.

"I don't. Learning very quickly though." She went back to working, her fingers moving amongst the tangle of wires. "The fact the systems are a mixture of Leviathan and Peacekeeper technology does help. But there's a lot to be desired for others. If this was to be attempted again, they need someone with better logic."

Bialar leant on the top of the console. "How do you mean? I had experts..." He trailed off as he realised what he'd just said. She looked up, her eyes wide.

"You had? The hybrid project was your idea?"

"Ah. Yes?"

Her eyes hardened slightly. "Oh." She took a deep breath, as if she was controlling her reaction. "And when exactly were you going to tell me that?"

"Eventually," he said, though he'd honestly not thought about it. "Why does it matter?"

"Why?" Her voice rose incredulously. "Why? Because I know enough about the project to know what the fate of most of the Leviathans was. None of them survived the birthing process."

"No." Bialar sighed. At the time that had not mattered, but his views on Leviathans had changed since then. "Ella... High Command wanted a ship that could decimate the Scarrens. If I could have delivered the solution... Yes, it was wrong. I know that know. But at the same time I do not regret the circumstances that resulted in this ship."

she stared at him for a microt, then sighed. "No, I don't suppose you would at that."

"What does it change? Whether Talyn was a result of my idea or someone else's, that does not change the fact he is currently disabled and needs your help."

"Did I say anything about refusing to?" she retorted. True enough, she had not stopped working, though there was a snap of her movements that had not been there beforehand.

"Then what is the problem?"

"That you withhold information. It is relevant, Bialar, no matter how much you dismiss it. You know how this ship was built."

He shook his head. "Not really. I was... reliant on the people I had working on it. It was... an obsession, I suppose. But I was not personally involved other than... than the orders I gave."

"Do I want to know?"

"No."

She glanced up at him and he wondered what she saw in his face because she swallowed and looked away quickly. "Fine," she said shortly.

"Ella..."

"I don't want to hear it Bialar. You either tell me or you don't, but please don't offer weak excuses."

He closed his mouth, aware she meant that. She turned back to the wiring and continued to work. Her expression was tight and he saw the anger simmering in her eyes. Briefly he considered moving away but then decided against it.

"I was a Peacekeeper captain," he reminded her. "I did a lot of things that I should not have done and that I now regret. The project needed a willing Pilot. When one was not, I had her... removed. It is not something I am proud of, especially since the Leviathan in question was Talyn's mother."

She had stopped again. Her face had gone pale. "You killed a Pilot?" She did not look up.

"Yes," he replied quietly. There was no evading the truth of it.

"I see." Her tone was terse. He expected more, but she bit her bottom lip and said nothing.

"You're angry with me now," he stated. She shrugged and carried on. He watched her for several microts before her silence grated. "Ella. Talk to me."

"And say what, exactly?" she snapped.

"I..." He sighed. "I don't know. Normally you yell at me when I've frelled you off."

She glared at him. "Do you want me to yell at you?"

He shrugged and looked away. "It is better than the silent treatment," he muttered. "What is it? You know the kind of things I have done, but that did not stop you from saving my life. This is not about one dead Pilot, is it?"

"Bialar..."

"Ella."

She sighed and sat back on her heels to look at him. "No, it isn't just that," she said. He lifted an eyebrow and waited. She looked away. "I was on Ballac."

Of all the things he had been expecting, that was not one of them. He felt his knees give and only the fact he was leaning on the console kept him upright. He stared at her in horror. "You were on Ballac?" His voice was harsh with shock. "No... please, tell me you were not."

Her expression softened just slightly. "I can't do that."

"Why?" It hardly mattered, but it was the only thing he could think of to say.

"I'd been running the blockade to deliver medical supplies. I'd just made a delivery when the alert went up that a full Carrier was on the way. We knew it meant a sterilisation and every ship was called to evacuate but..."

"It was too late." Bialar closed his eyes. "That was definitely not one of my best moments. Ella... Not only the sterilisation but I ordered the Prowlers to take down the refugee ships. If you were evacuating." He felt ill. "I could have killed you without even realising it."

"Dren," she snorted. "I can out fly a Prowler even in a transporter."

He gave a short laugh. "I believe you could." Then the smile dropped off his face. "So. You thought I abandoned you at Haldon and then to make matters worse I nearly killed you on Ballac. That is it then? Or is there something more?"

"That's about it," she replied. She gave him a wan smile. "Isn't that enough?"

"More than enough." He pushed off the console and sat down next to her. So given that, I do wonder how you can forgive me."

She didn't look up immediately. Instead she gazed at her hands, her expression distant, and he knew she was thinking it all over. He waited, trying not to think of how close he had come to killing her. Finally she sighed and glanced at him.

"I spent fourteen cycles evading Peacekeepers, Bialar. Given the numbers of times I've run one step ahead of a Carrier, chances were always going to mean it would be yours eventually. It isn't something I take personally."

He arched an eyebrow. "Really?" he said doubtfully.

She smiled faintly. "Really."

"So why the cold shoulder?"

"Because..." she looked away and sighed. "Because... Fine, I did take it personally. But there isn't any point in holding grudges, Bialar. Especially not now. Look I know patience isn't your strong suit, but I... I went through things over the cycles and often the only way I could cope was to blame you. Being angry at you kept me going, when..." She paused and flushed. "When feeling other things didn't. So I may not always be particularly rational."

He watched her for a microt. He understood, or at least he thought he did. "I can be patient," he said slowly. "For you, I always could."

Her head snapped up and she stared at him, shock echoing in her eyes. The colour in her cheeks deepened. "Oh don't," she complained, her tone somewhat bitter, and she looked away again.

Bialar reached out and caught her chin. She let him turn her back but she did not meet his gaze. "Ella," he said softly.

Her eyes flicked up. "This is not getting the systems back up," she said shortly and she pushed his arm down. She knelt forward and made some show of continuing with the wiring. He smiled slightly but chose not to pursue it further.

Instead he stood up and walked to the forward section of Command. Beyond the viewscreen the nebula swirled, a riot of colour that was mesmerising. Though the remains of the dead Leviathans that drifted were less so. It was an eerie place to be, but he could live with it as he knew the unique magnetic field emanating from the system blocked them from long-range scans.

"There," Ella said suddenly, her tone one of satisfaction. He turned to see her wiping her hands on the fabric of her trousers. "That should be it."

He came over and squatted to examine her handiwork, bracing himself by placing one hand on her back, and peered under the control. He could barely tell the new wiring from the old. "Looks good," he said.

She gave a snort. "You have no idea what I did," she groused but then grinned at him, the argument apparently forgotten. He shrugged.

"Exactly my point," he replied and stood up. "So now what?"

"Now?" She pulled herself upright and dusted her trousers down. "Now to bring him back online."

Bialar felt a jolt at this. "Already?" He knew Ella was good, but even still he had expected it to have taken far longer to reach this stage.

"Not completely," Ella said. "Just enough to access the DRDs, remember? Still, you might be able to reach him somewhat. Right?"

"Right."

He watched her walk to the biological controls. He could clearly remember powering Talyn's consciousness down and flinched back from the recall. Ella put her hands to the controls and a tension filled him. The need for the connection was a sudden, burning hunger. She pushed the switches up.

A low hum began filled Command. The lights came up brighter and the itching sensation increased exponentially. Bialar felt something stir at the back of his mind. His senses expanded as the internal systems began to activate. He took a deep breath as Ella pulled up the second set of controls.

He felt the DRDs respond to his thought and grinned. It had worked. Then pain ripped his head apart. Burning. He was burning alive and nerves were shredding in the heat. He collapsed to the floor as electric shocks lanced down his arms and spine.

"Talyn!" he screamed. The bleedback. Frell. His last thought before the darkness swamped him was that he _really _should have warned Ella about the possibilities.


	8. Chapter 7

The lights in Command brightened as the systems powered up. Ella looked around with a delighted grin. It had worked! Although she hadn't really doubted herself, the hybrid was something completely new to her and until she'd seen evidence that– Her flush of success was shattered by a sudden scream. Startled, she whirled round in time to see Bialar collapse to the floor, pain etched on his face.

For a moment she simply stood, staring in frozen horror as he huddled on the floor in obvious agony, at a loss as to the cause of his pain. Then he cried out again, his head cradled in his arms and she realised – the implant.

She spun and shoved the top set of controls back down to drop the level of Talyn's awareness, then dashed to kneel at Bialar's side. He was damp with sweat and trembling violently, his jaw clenched tightly against the pain.

"Bialar?" she called, reaching out a hand to touch his arm tentatively. He didn't respond to either her query nor touch. She bit her lip; clearly the connection he had with Talyn through the transponder was exposing him to the hybrid's pain, and given the amount of damage... she glanced around and shuddered.

Looking back down, she considered that the immediate solution was to remove the transponder, but then again she wasn't entirely sure what would happen if she did that. She pushed his hair out of the way and reached towards the device, only to pause, her hand hovering as her eyes went to his face.

"What do I do?" she asked, her voice hoarse with fright. She felt sick to her stomach. He moaned and the pain in that sound made the decision for her.

She pulled the transponder out.

Bialar gave a loud groan and shuddered violently once. Then he slumped, deathly still. Ella stared at him in horror and then shoved his shoulder to roll him onto his back. His skin was pallid and his eyes were closed.

And he wasn't breathing.

"No!" she cried out in horror. Yotz what had she _done_? There was a brief moment of blind panic, then a desperate practicality took over; she would not – could not – loose him now. Shaking, her hands trembling, she tilted his head back and pinched his nose.

Opening his mouth, she fastened hers over tightly and blew air into his lungs. She did it again and again, the panic beginning to rise as he remained still. It was on the fourth or fifth breath that he finally gasped and then began to cough harshly.

Ella gave a choked sob of relief as Bialar rolled instinctively onto his side. She dropped back to sit on her heels, dizzy from her exertion and close to collapse from emotional stress. She continued to watch, warily tense in case he had another crisis, only relaxing when his eyes fluttered open. She dropped her head and closed her eyes, the shock leaving her cold and shaking.

Then as the panic ebbed, still sick at what she'd witnessed, Ella felt a surge of anger. "What the _yotz_ was that?" she bit at him. He swallowed and it was clear from his face he felt some residue of pain.

"Neural bleedback," he managed after a microt. His voice was rough, though his tone was calmly matter-of-fact. Coupled with the immediacy of his answer, she realised that he did not just know exactly but had experienced this before. Ella felt her anger mount.

"What?" She folded her arms and glowered at him. "Explain."

Bialar opened his eyes again. He looked at her for a long moment and she wasn't sure what he saw in her expression, but regret flickered across his. Pushing himself up on one elbow, he struggled to sit. Still feeling a confusion of emotions, Ella held back, until he winced, at which point she couldn't just sit and watch but had to reach out to help him.

He gave her a wan smile and then sighed. "I told you that Talyn's psyche was not exactly... stable," he said and she nodded at the reminder. "What I neglected to tell you was that occasionally it... betters my control. The result is severe pain, sometimes with physical effects."

Cold horror slid down her spine. "Physical effects?" she asked before the realisation dawned on her. Her eyes dropped to his chest. "The scars."

"Yes," he admitted softly.

She stared at him, and then sighed. It was too much effort to remain angry with him, even though he had clearly been aware of the risks. She shook her head. "You should have told me."

He nodded. "Yes. And I would have done before we brought Talyn further awake."

That sounded like censure and Ella stiffened. "I told you that Leviathans are not my best subject," she snapped defensively. "I am sorry, but I didn't realise that what I'd done would expose you so much of Talyn's psyche that-" She stopped when he leant over and laid a finger across her lips.

"Ella," he said softly. "I did not mean that to sound like an accusation. This was my fault for not supplying you with all the facts. How were you supposed to know?"

"I had seen the scars," she said. "And the burns you suffered. I'd seen where they originated from. I should have surmised the rest."

He brushed her cheek and sighed. "You should not blame yourself," he told her.

"How can I not?" she replied darkly. "You screamed, Bialar. It was awful to see you in so much pain that–" He interrupted her again, this time silencing her words with a rough and somewhat clumsy kiss. She jerked backwards and stared at him. "What was _that _for?"

"To stop you from blaming yourself." It sounded almost like a reasonable explanation, but then she noticed the rather smug expression on his face and gave him a level look.

"You could have just said."

"I did, but you weren't listening." He shrugged and smirked. "And it wouldn't have been as much fun."

Her head snapped up so quickly at that she hurt her neck. "Bialar!"

"Then there was the small matter that you started it," he added, unperturbed by her shock.

She stared at him in confusion, until she realised he was referred to her resuscitating him. "That was not a kiss, you idiot," she said sourly, but she had to smile. "And you know it."

"Perhaps," he replied and shrugged again.

"You're impossible." Ella shook her head and then looked at him carefully. "How much pain are you still in?"

The grin on his face faded. "A little," he allowed grudgingly.

"Which means a lot, but that you're too stubborn to admit it." She ignored the narrow eyed look he gave her, too busy thinking it over. There was a possible solution, but she needed to know more first. "Where does it originate from?" she asked him.

He looked away, uncertainty clouding his face. "Does that matter now?"

"Yes." She reached out and cupped his face, turning him back to face her. "This cannot continue," she told him flatly. "Not only is it seriously affecting you but it scared me. I thought... well, you'd stopped breathing so you can imagine what I thought."

For a moment he just sat there, his eyes on the floor. Then he took her hand and threaded his fingers through hers as he looked up. "I'm sorry."

It was heartfelt but she shook her head. "Don't apologise, Bialar; help me. You must be aware of the cause, so think. If there is some error then it is possible that I can correct it and stop the bleedback from reoccurring. Or at the very least lessen its effects so you don't suffer so badly."

"I hadn't ever considered it," he told her and looked somewhat abashed. "It was just... an anomaly in his systems that I learnt to live with, to a degree. It only tends to occur when our desires clash, which is rarely."

"Does he mean to harm you?" she asked softly. His gaze snapped up and he opened his mouth. Something flickered in his eyes and a rather terrible understanding crossed his face. He looked away.

"Yes," he said, his voice almost inaudible. "But it is... like a child throwing a tantrum. There is no malice, just a selfish desire for his own way."

"At your expense," Ella muttered darkly. "I think it's time Talyn learnt the meaning of captain. I know," she said when he stiffened, "that you prefer not to force your will on him, but if he is a child then you need to."

"No," he started and she cut him off.

"Bialar." She held his gaze until he nodded. "Trust me. I'm not going to do anything that will affect his personality, but I can't just stand and let him hurt you Bialar. The next time..." She shook her head, unwilling to entertain the possibilities.

"The core," he said in a low voice. "The origin is in the core."

Ella smiled slightly. "Thank you," she said softly. "That gives me a place to start tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?" He frowned up at her. "Not now?"

"For frell's sake," she muttered. "A microt ago you hesitating over the information, now you're all eager for me to do it? No, not now Bialar. Now I am taking you back to the Demimel and you are going to rest even if I had to cuff you to the frelling bed to make sure of it."

"Ella..."

She leant forward and stilled his lips with her mouth, and then grinned at him. "Two can play that game," she explained at his startled expression. "Stop arguing with me, because you know I'm right. Now. Can you stand?"

Bialar snorted dismissively. "Of course I can," he snapped.

Ella folded her arms and watched curiously. It took a moment or two, but he _did _manage to get to his feet, though he was far from steady. She looked up, the faintest smile on her face and he glared as if challenging her to comment. Knowing better than to even think of saying something, she stood and took his arm, ignoring the look she got for her trouble.

"Come on then," she said, and for all that he huffed at her, his irritation did not stop him leaning rather heavily on her arm. She still didn't comment, her amusement at his pedantry fading quickly when she realised just how tightly he was holding himself.

Just before the hanger, a DRD skittered out of one of the rooms, making her jump. Bialar chuckled at her reaction. "The DRDs are now operational," he reminded her, somewhat smugly.

"So they are." She watched it scoot quickly up the way they had just come. "At least something around here is."

His hand tightened on her arm and she regretted her words. She dared a glance at his face; his expression was flat. "Funny," he said, his tone was heavy with sarcasm. He released her arm and took a few uncertain steps into the hanger before stopping. "Though you may have a point."

Ella knew she did; stubbornness could only carry him so far, and he had obviously reached that point and was fighting to remain standing. She walked over to him and wordlessly slid an arm around his waist, supporting him as they crossed to the transporter.

Bialar watched as Ella sat at the control and ran through her usual pre-flight checks. As soon as he was sure her attention was fully taken with the procedure and his weakness would not be noticed, he slid down the wall to sit on the floor. His entire body was aching from the bleedback and the odd aftershock made his muscles spasm.

Not that he had told her about that. He wasn't quite sure why he wished to keep this to himself, only that he did. While he knew strength wasn't something that impressed her anyway, he still found his current lack... embarrassing. Maybe he was just feeling his age.

He was certainly feeling the onset of a vicious headache and leant back against the wall, the cool metal easing the pounding a little. His neck was throbbing in counterpoint and he came to the conclusion that Ella's idea about rest was a very good one.

Looking at her through half-closed eyes, he noticed that she seemed to have forgotten his presence and was completely absorbed in clearing the transporter from the hanger. He licked his lips, remembering her kiss. She had changed; a little... flirtier than she had been, and there was a hardness, a wariness that made something within him ache.

What she had gone through? She had told him little of the past sixteen cycles, not even of the night that had changed everything. She had gone to Haldon Station, and he knew enough about that dark, corrupt space station that he would never ask her just in case she decided to tell him. After that... well she had built the Demimel – an achievement that still startled him – and then traded her abilities for credits and... whatever.

He knew she had not been a mercenary; she had been very clear about that. It didn't surprise him as he too was very keen to leave that sort of violence to the Peacekeepers. He doubted she even knew how to fire a pistol, though she had learnt some form of self defence. He remembered _that_.

"We'll arrive on the Demimel in less than three hundred microts," she announced suddenly. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he lied. In truth he felt exhausted and he closed his eyes, intending just to rest for a moment.

The jolt of the transporter landing woke him. Realising he'd dozed off, Bialar looked up quickly to see if Ella had noticed. She powered down the engine and stood up. Her head tilted slightly when she saw where he was sat but then the quizzical expression softened to one of understanding.

"Feeling the effect?" she asked gently.

He looked away. "I'm fine," he told her doggedly.

"Huh, of course you are." Ella walked to where he was sat and hunkered down. "While I'm overwhelmed at just how manly you are, there's a fine line between bravery and stupidity Bialar, and I think you're in danger of crossing it. Plus I know you're lying because you look awful."

"Thank you," he said sourly. She chuckled, but she brushed his hair from his face with a gentle hand and there was as much fondness in her eyes as there was amusement.

"Sorry, but you really do." She stood easily and held out a hand. "You really need to rest."

"If I were that way inclined," he retorted, needing to level the game. "I would say you had an inordinate interest in getting me into bed."

Ella stopped sharply, and turned to stare at him. It was only then that Bialar realised teasing her about that was probably not a good idea. He wanted to take it back, but then to his considerable surprise, she laughed softly.

"You wish," she replied airily. "Behave yourself Crais."

It was the first time she'd used his last name in... well he forgot but it was enough to warn him that, while she'd not taken offence this time, he had been on dangerous ground. He inclined his head soberly.

She smiled and offered her arm. He put his hand on it and let her lead him, though he tried not to lean on her overly much.

Ella delivered him to his quarters. He crossed to the bed and sank onto the soft mattress with a barely disguised sigh of relief. She sat on the edge and watched him.

"What?" he snapped after several microts, her scrutiny making him somewhat uncomfortable.

"I was just thinking," she replied mildly. "Wondering, really. You are like a natural disaster, Bialar. I don't understand how you manage to remain alive." She sighed. "How many times before today have you suffered the bleedback?"

He shrugged. "Three," he said. "I learnt very quickly how to head off confrontations."

"Three." She shook her head. "And you didn't think it might have been a good idea to tell me?"

"I would have done," he retorted, somewhat defensively.

"Yes," she replied flatly. "Eventually. Probably when it was too late."

"I just didn't think– "

"No!" The word exploded from her and seemed to startle her as much as it did him. She looked away. "You never think," she muttered darkly. "You keep saying you're telling me the truth, but you don't Bialar." She speared him with a hot glare. "The merest of information is not the truth. I'm not asking you to lay yourself bare, I'm not that stupid. But a lack of information could have killed you today. I want to help, but I cannot operate in the dark."

He gazed at her, at the flush that pinked her cheeks, at the glitter in her grey eyes, and felt utterly abashed. She did have a point, and a very good one at that, but he still hesitated about telling her everything.

"When Scorpius forced me out, I took Talyn and ran," he said finally. "But the Peacekeepers wanted him back – his fire-power was considerable and the ability to Starburst offered both offensive and defensive possibilities. We were outmanoeuvred once, by a Retrieval Squad. It was an obvious tactic but Talyn is... was... easily distracted. I have no excuse and should have known better. We escaped, but not before Talyn had suffered severe damage.

"Eventually the squad caught up with us and Talyn was boarded. That, I think, was where much of the problems stem from; all they wanted was to cut off his higher functions so they could move him – there was little thought and no finesse to what was done. I tried, but I lack the ability, even with the knowledge in my head. It was too much."

He stopped and sighed, his eyes on nothing in particular as he recalled those last few days. A touch on his hand brought him to himself and he glanced at Ella to find her watching him with a sympathetic expression, apparently over her irritation.

"You did what you could," Ella said softly.

"It was not enough," he replied. "I knew that then. Even with help it would have taken so long, and he would not have been Talyn by the end of it. But then other things... occurred and the Carrier..." He paused, remembering the conversation with Aeryn, the utter desperation he had felt. "In the end I preferred to choose the manner of my death and to give Talyn the chance to redeem us both. That could be achieved by removing Scorpius and to that end..." He trailed off and waved a hand.

"You ordered Talyn to Starburst whilst contained."

"Yes. Beyond that, I don't remember much other than waking up here. I did not expect to survive."

Ella sighed. "You should not have done. The chances..." She looked at him, wonder on her face. But there was a pain in her eyes. "I heard. Not even High Command could keep something like the destruction of a Carrier quiet. And they were eager to note that you had been killed in the attempt." She looked away. "I... I was running at the time, but even with them on top of me... I couldn't believe it. It was too much to imagine. I wonder... it was pure chance that I decided on this nebula, the odds must be infinite but I did and I was somehow in time to save you, close as that was."

"I don't understand how it could have happened either," he said truthfully. He still felt amazed when he thought it over.

She looked up, a faint smile on her face. "Maybe I knew, subconsciously. I think... I remember waking a cycle ago from a nightmare in a cold sweat. I later found out that was the day Scorpius claimed command of the Carrier."

Bialar blinked at that. "The day I left," he said, feeling a little disturbed.

"I surmised as much when you told me what had happened." She shrugged. "It's probably just coincidence."

"Perhaps." He scanned her face. "You don't believe that though."

"No," she agreed with another small smile. "Something drew me to that nebula, Bialar. I swear it."

He leant back and closed his eyes. "I care only that you came," he said. "That is enough for me."

"Oh, now that is nice," she said warmly. "Keep that up and I might just forgive you for scaring me half to death."

He smiled tiredly, eyes still closed. "I have apologised for that. What else does it take?"

"Hm. I'll think about it and let you know."

"I see." He yawned. "I thought I was supposed to be resting."

He felt the bed shift as she stood up. "You are," she said. "I'll leave you alone."

"You don't have to," he said, the words out before he'd thought about them. He froze and then opened his eyes to look at her. She had stopped, the expression on her face shocked. He wanted to tell her that he had not meant it as it had sounded but he found himself oddly speechless at the startled vulnerability in her eyes.

Then she smiled and came over to the bedside. She bent down and brushed his lips lightly with hers. "Get some sleep," she ordered softly and then walked out.

He pulled the cover up, but he was still unsettled. He was unsure about what he felt for Ella; their relationship was too confusing. He remembered what he had felt sixteen cycles ago, but both of them had changed since then. Thinking it over kept him awake for some time.

Bialar wasn't the only one who could not sleep; Ella lay in her own bed for an arn before she gave up. Every time she closed her eyes, she remembered his pain-filled cry and the horror of the moments afterwards. She sat in the bed for a while, thinking over what he had told her. It wasn't everything, she knew that, but he had told her what was relevant to the repair of Talyn.

The rest of it, the more personal things, could wait. She could hardly censure him for holding back on those things when she hadn't told him everything from her own past.

Her mind turned to the problem of the bleedback. She certainly did not want to experience the awful moment again. She still had the pad Bialar has scrawled in and she picked it up, leafing through the pages idly. There had to be a way of blocking that part of Talyn's psyche.

She slipped out of bed and carried the pad over to her desk, sat down and turned to the drawings related to the core. If she could just find a way... her eyes settled on the transponder. She hadn't returned it to Bialar as yet, and he hadn't asked. Maybe the answer lay in that. She picked it up.

From what she understood, the removal section held most of the technology, while the part that resided in his neck was most a receiver. She twirled it between thumb and first finger. It was a particularly invasive device and she realised she probably shouldn't have been so surprised that there were side-effects.

The plans Bialar had drawn up were not specific enough. She chewed on her bottom lip as she considered them and the transponder. The only way of getting to the bottom of this was to head back to Talyn and since she obviously wasn't going to get any sleep any time soon... She stood up and got dressed quickly. Then she picked up the pad and the transponder and headed to the hanger bay.

As soon as she was on Talyn, Ella headed to the core room. She dropped her bag of tools carelessly by the main panel and then sat down. Pulling a handful of wires clear of the surround, she began to sort through them, tracing the various systems and slowly discounting one after another.

Deciding that the obvious source for the original of the bleedback would be somewhere in Talyn's higher functions, she identified those. She hard-wired the transponder into them and then watched the output on her hand-held monitor as she tried various wires.

As she worked, the temperature of the room dropped. It was a slow decline and she did not notice at first. It was only when she started shivering that she realised it was getting cold. Frowning she routed through the wiring until she found what she thought was the climate control.

It was working perfectly. Yet the temperature was still dropping.

"Dren," she muttered. There had to be a secondary system, most likely on Command. Ah well, it wasn't _that _cold right now and she had a feeling she was close to solving the puzzle of the bleedback. So she continued to work; cutting through one of the wires and adding a resistor. Then she rerouted a second system and checked the monitor again. The reading was right down, but above zero. Still it was a result.

She shivered. The chill was becoming too much to ignore. She stood up and stretched, and then started to the door. It slid shut before she reached it. She stopped and frowned. Waved her hand over the control. Nothing happened. She tried again, with the same result.

The temperature dropped several degrees very suddenly. Ella realised with a jolt that there was no malfunction; Talyn was alert and was doing this deliberately.

"Talyn!" she called out. She touched the bulkhead and then quickly snatched her hand back as the cold burnt her fingers. "Talyn, it's alright. I don't mean you any harm."

It was no good, either he couldn't hear her or else didn't believe her and the coldness increased. Shivering violently, she went back on the core panel and tried to find a system, any system, that would stop her freezing to death.

She hit her comm. "Demi? Demi if you can hear me – I need help!"

There was only static in reply but she had hope that the AI had received that message. Her hands were shaking so much now that even if she could find the system, she would be unable to do anything to save herself. She tried to stand but her body was shutting down as the temperature reached freezing levels and she collapsed to the floor.

"Talyn, please," she whispered. She closed her eyes. Her last thought before she succumbed to unconsciousness was a silent prayer that Demi had gotten her message and woken Bialar. That he would know. And that he would make it in time.


	9. Chapter 8

"Crais. Crais!" The insistent call of the AI jolted Bialar awake. He sat up, blinking blearily as the computer flooded his room with light.

"What's the emergency?" he asked. "Are we attacked?"

"No," the AI replied but still sounding worried. "It is Ellandra. I received a message from her but the transmission was bad and cut off. Now I cannot raise communications again."

He hauled on his trousers and scrambled off the bed. "Where is she?"

"Aboard Talyn."

Of course she was. Bialar pushed a hand through his hair. What trouble had that woman gotten herself into? "What is she... oh never mind. Do you know where the transmission cam from?"

"Deep within the ship. I believe the origin was the core room."

"She's over-riding the bleedback," Bialar muttered. He felt like swearing. "Scan Talyn. See if you can pick up whether the internal security has been activated."

There was a short pause, then, "Negative," said the AI.

"That's something, anyway," he said and started to the door. Then he stopped. "Ah... isn't there just the one transporter?"

"Yes, but I can swing in close enough that you can transfer. Though you will need a spacesuit."

"Wonderful," he remarked sourly, but he opened the door and raced down to the hanger anyway. He hated doing space walks, but Ella needed him. There was no question in his mind that he wouldn't do everything it took to rescue her no matter what.

The suits were stored in lockers within the hanger bay – a design fault he felt – but he ignored the impracticality of that and donned one of them, making sure that every seam was air-tight as suffocating in space was not his idea of a good death. If there was such a thing.

Demi had obviously brought the ship round and as the hanger bay door opened, Bialar could see the rear quarter of Talyn and the open bay. It wasn't that far. At least, that was what he kept telling himself as he crossed the hanger to the exit.

Ella had been fairly far-sighted when she'd designed the Demimel and there were grappling tethers built in above the hatch. One shot out and impacted on Talyn, just over the airlock.

"Nice shot," he muttered to the AI.

"I cannot read any life-signs," it replied. "Either your ship is blocking me or..."

"The core room is shielded," Bialar said quickly, not prepared to entertain any other possible reason for the lack of signal. He attached the harness on his suit to the cable, took a deep breath and stepped off the ship.

Though the suit has its own environment, he could have sworn he felt colder. He concentrated on the cable and tried to ignore the nothingness that yawned beneath him. There was no up or down, he knew that. He still couldn't overcome the primal fear of falling. Fortunately Demi had got in close and it really wasn't that far. Though far enough that he felt an almost overwhelming surge of relief to reach the solidity of Talyn.

Immediately he knew the ship was awake. He closed the airlock and equalised the pressure, then removed the helmet.

"Talyn?"

He put one hand to the back of his neck. The transponder was not there. Bialar knew a moment of pure, blind panic before recalling the bleedback and Ella and... he sighed as he realised she must have removed it.

Activating the inner door, he strode down the passageways toward the core room. She had to be there. The Leviathan was very quiet and he got a creeping sensation that he was being watched. He felt like an intruder on his own ship. It was very unsettling.

The door to the core room was closed. Bialar waved a hand over the control to find nothing happened. He frowned and put a hand on the door. Even through the thickness of the glove he could feel how cold the metal was. He stared at it, puzzled. Why was it so cold? Sure that meant that the room–

Shock washed through him. The room would be as cold, if not colder. Ella. He slammed a fist against the door.

"Talyn!" he yelled. "Talyn, it's me. Open the damned door!" There was no response so he hit his comm. "Demi? How long has Ella been out of contact?"

"Almost a quarter of an arn."

Bialar stared at the door. If it was that cold... yotz she didn't stand a chance. He thumped the door again. "Talyn!" He rested his head against his fist. Abruptly he remembered Aeryn's icy, watery death and shuddered violently. No. He was _not _going to let that happen.

"Talyn, please," he said, his voice little more than a whisper. "Don't do this. Her name is Ella. She doesn't mean you any harm, Talyn. She is trying to help you. She is the one that saved us, she has cared for me and I..." He choked, overcome with a sudden grief at the thought of loosing her. He realised distantly that he understood what she had gone through now. "Talyn... she means a great deal to me. Please... please, open the door."

A shudder ran through the ship. Then, with the loud crack of breaking ice, the door opened.

The blast of cold that escaped on opening was so fierce that it forced Bialar back a step. It made him remember again and, for a microt, he was back on a frozen planet, standing over a pod. Not again. He shook off the memory and went into a room that was covered in a thin layer of frost.

Ella was huddled under the core console. He raced over and knelt at her side, turning her carefully onto her back. Her eyes were closed, the lashes thick with frost, and her skin was blue. He reached out and cupped her face. She was frozen, too cold to even shiver.

"Oh yotz," he swore softly, horror making his stomach churn sickly. Removing his other glove, he put both hands to her cheeks in an attempt to impart warmth. Her eyelids fluttered and opened.

"Bialar?" Her voice was faint.

"Yes," he replied thickly. "It's okay. You're going to be okay."

She gave a dazed nod, her gaze loosing their focus. "So cold," she murmured and her eyes closed again.

"No!" Bialar cried out, aware that if she went to sleep as she would not waken again. Pulling her into a sitting position, he smacked her cheek. "Wake up," he snapped. "You have to wake up, Ella."

There was little response, so he shook her and she moaned softly. Sliding one hand down to her neck he found the pulse there, faint and terribly sluggish under her fingertips. He rubbed her arms, hoping to both warm her and to get blood pumping, watching her face as he did so. He could see that she was struggling to stay conscious, and though her strength surprised him a little, it was clear she was loosing the fight.

He recalled the microts after the bleedback attack and what she had done to revive him. He wasn't sure on the technicalities of the procedure, but anything was worth trying. Pulling her closer, he bent over her frozen face and fixed his lips to hers, breathing warmth into her lungs.

After a few microts, Ella's eyes flickered open again and widened at the position she found herself in. Bialar chuckled a little at her startled expression and smiled gently. "Now stay with me, or I'll have to do that again," he told her. She gave a faint smile in response and he looked round the room. "I don't know what you thought you were doing."

This as he stared at the panel, at the wiring that hung out and wound around the transponder. She murmured something unintelligible as he reached out and ripped the device free. It was cold and he warmed it in one palm for a moment before reinserted it into his neck.

Bialar felt a heady rush as his senses expanded. He could feel Talyn's remorse and reached out mentally to reassure the ship. "It's alright Talyn," he said softly. "I know you were just protecting yourself." He glanced down at the woman in his arms. "You weren't to know she's not dangerous, just very stupid."

"Hey," she exclaimed, her voice still hoarse.

"It's true," he said flatly. "And you are still dangerously cold."

With that and a rare but very heartfelt curse, Bialar scooped her up into his arms, ignoring both her soft protest and the pain the action caused in his chest. He carried her out of the frozen core room and into the warmer passageway. Here he leant against the bulkhead to regroup and consider his next move.

"Put me down," Ella whispered. "I can manage."

"Dren," he retorted. "You can barely stay awake."

"I am... trying." Her voice was faint and he snorted derisively.

"Very," he said snidely.

"Take me... back to Demi."

"I can't. It's too far and I don't... I can't." He glanced down at her pale, worried face. "Don't worry, I have an idea."

He carrying her along the passageway to his quarters, where he set her down carefully. He had to hold her upright as she was loosing consciousness again; her eyes closed and her body wavering.

"Ella!" he snapped. She forced her eyes open. "Do you trust me?"

"Wha?"

"Your body temperature is dangerously low. You have to stay awake or you're going to slip into a hypothermic coma." He stopped as her eyes widened. "Good, you understand me. Now... I'm really very sorry and I hope you do trust me, because I'm going to have to do this."

And with that he began to strip her, removing the frozen clothing that was exacerbating her situation until she was in nothing but her underwear. He grabbed the cover off his bed, wrapped her into its soft warmth and then guided her into the bathroom.

He began to fill the bath, ignoring the bewildered look Ella gave him. Instead he concentrated on keeping the temperature on the border of comfort; while he needed to heat her body up, too much would result in Heat Delirium and not exactly help matters.

Turning the water off again, Bialar took the cover from around her. She blinked at him and then gasped as he swept her into his arms.

"No." The word was horrified and it cut into him, but he did not pause and dumped her unceremoniously into the bath. Ella cried out as the very warm water blasted her frozen limbs, her body spasming as pain from the sudden change in temperature tore through her.

"I'm sorry," he said as he held her down. It was a brutal way to restore her temperature and she sobbed loudly, her hands tight on his arm. He hated that he was hurting her so much and offered what little comfort he could; stroking her hair and murmuring softly.

After several long moments, the great shudders of agony that racked Ella's body began to abate and her hoarse sobs lessened to weak whimpers. But her skin had gone from icy white to pink and when he tilted her head back, her eyes were clearer, better focused.

"Ella? Are you alright?"

"Hurts," she breathed and he closed his eyes.

"I know," he said heavily. He gave it a count of another hundred microts, then eased her out of the bath and onto the floor, wrapping her in a warm towel and then holding her tightly. He felt ill with what he had been forced to do and he knew it would be a long time before he forgot the sound of her scream.

She nestled against him, trembling violently. Concerned about the possibility of shock, he cupped her to tilt her head up so he could look in her eyes. She seemed a little dazed, but in the whole was focused and he felt a surge of relief.

"Hey," he said softly and smoothed her hair gently. She took a shuddering breath in.

"Hi," she murmured, her voice rough with pain. "W-what happened?"

Bialar winced as guilt surged. He sighed and stroked her hair again. "I... I believe Talyn mistook your intention," he explained quietly. "I believe he thought you meant him harm."

He watched her frown, and then realisation dawn on her face. Her eyes widened as she stared at him in shock. "He tried to kill me."

There was no evading the truth of it. "Yes, and he nearly succeeded." He gave a heavy sigh and ran a hand through his hair. "Whatever were you thinking? It's fortunate that Demi considers me trustworthy enough to alert me to your danger. Otherwise..."

He left it hanging and she shivered.

"Cold," she said then, her voice weak.

"You will be," he replied and began to rub her with the towel. "I need to get you dried and warm."

"That'd be nice," she murmured, her tone somewhat dazed. He smiled faintly and rubbed her vigorously. She gave a small moan of protest. "Not so hard. You're hurting me."

"Tough," he said briskly. "You need blood in your extremities, otherwise... Look," he added, lifting a hand to show her the white patches that covered her fingers. "Frostbite. Mild, fortunately, but I don't particularly want to start having to amputate parts off you. I make a terrible medic."

She gave a sigh and he carried on, abet less roughly. He dried her arms and legs, but there was a problem he was ignoring, though that was getting harder to do. He sat back and wondered how he was going to broach the subject as, though he could dry her body, she was still in her underclothes, and those were wet.

"Ella," he said gently. "You're not going to get warm wearing wet clothes. Can you manage to remove those?" She nodded and he pulled the towel round her tighter. "Here, wrap up in this and I'll go and see if I have something dry that you can wear."

She gave him a tired smile and he went through the door into the sleeping area of his quarters.

Now the danger Ella had put herself in was past, Bialar took a proper look at the room and he was pleased to see that it was more or less untouched by damage. He supposed that was because of its central position within Talyn. The why wasn't important as long as it was habitable, what was important was finding Ella something to wear.

He stripped off his spacesuit and dumped it by the clothes closet, then routed through the few clothes it contained. He quickly realised he had two problems, the first being that there was little that wouldn't swamp Ella's smaller frame, and the second was her willingness to wear anything that would make her look like a Peacekeeper.

That made him pause, because it was exactly what she had said to him and... An idea struck, obvious now he thought about it and pulled off the tunic, changing it for one of his black, sleeveless tops. Then he went back into the bathroom.

And stopped dead at the door. Ella was stood and had used the intervening time to remove at least the upper portion of her underwear. He stared and then whirled, but it was half a microt too late for his brain to not register an expanse of pale skin and the curve of her breasts.

"Ella!" he snapped in a mixture of horror and embarrassment. Although he was no stranger to the female form, he hadn't expected to encounter her nakedness and he felt himself flush.

"What? You could have knocked!"

"You could have said!" he retorted. He held the tunic out behind, making sure he kept his eyes front and centre. She took it from him.

"Thank you," she said, her tone softer. There was a pause. "There. I'm decent now."

Bialar turned warily and looked at her. She was turning back the cuffs so that they weren't over her hands. The wide collar hung off one pale shoulder and the hem reached mid-thigh, the largeness of the garment accentuating her lack of height.

The humour of the situation hit him hard and he tried not to grin at her, but failed badly. She looked up, caught his expression and pointed at him imperiously.

"Not a word," she said, stating each word crisply.

"I would not dream of it," he said in an innocent tone. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, you know," she said, her tone derisive. "Tired and cold. And I look frelling ridiculous. Other than that, I'm just fine."

He smiled at her tone as she was obviously recovered enough for sarcasm. It faded at the mortification in her expression and he noted how much she was shivering. He strode across the room and scooped her up into his arms. She gave a gasp of surprise and flung her arms around his neck.

"Don't strangle me," he said dryly as her hold was very tight. "I won't drop you."

Ella took a breath, but then seemed to decide against a retort. She sighed and settled her head against his shoulder. He smiled slightly and carried her through the bedroom to the bed. He laid her on the bed, but her arms remained locked around his neck. He lifted an eyebrow and looked at her curiously.

"Thank you," she said softly. He shrugged.

"You saved me first," he replied quietly. "Call it even."

She frowned. "Is that it?"

"Of course," he said off-hand and pulled the cover over her. It was not the sole reason, but he wasn't comfortable in admitting that.

Instead he wrapped her tightly and then sat on the bed. Examining her, he could see how pale she still was. He reached out to lay the back of his hand against her forehead and found her skin cool but dry.

She closed her eyes as his touch, and a small smile flickered over her blue-tinged lips. "Of course," she murmured, and her tone was just a little smug.

Bialar watched her, his emotions dangerously close to the surface. He banked them down and dropped his hand to pinched her arm, making her yelp.

"Wake up," he said shortly. "You're still too cold to be sleeping."

"I'm fine," she grumbled and rubbed her arm. "There wasn't any need for that."

"You are not fine and there was every need, Ellandra. You have been exposed to freezing temperatures and were dangerously close to hypothermia. The frostbite you have should be evidence enough of that."

She looked up at him with a hurt expression. "Why are you angry at me?" she asked in a small voice.

"Because you took an unreasonable risk," he retorted flatly. "I warned you that Talyn is unstable. He is coming out of hibernation and the last thing he remembers is the Peacekeepers tearing out his systems. How did you think he was going to react to a stranger aboard when he had no sense of where I was? I suspect there was little thinking whatsoever."

"I was trying to help you," she stated.

"It would have helped if you hadn't nearly gotten yourself killed!" he snapped. Her eyes snapped wide, then the shock in their grey depths flared to anger.

"Oh that is rich!" she fumed. "How long ago is it that were you screaming in pain from the bleedback? I was trying to avoid that happening again. I'm not so sure I should have frelling bothered now."

Her expression morphed to one of misery and she rolled onto her side, to offer him her back. Her distress made Bialar feel immediately guilty and he sighed as his annoyance at her actions fled. He stroked a hand over the red-blond hair.

"I'm sorry," he apologised. "It's just... you frightened me."

"Really?" she muttered, not moving. "Well now you know how I felt."

He looked down at her. If she had felt even a little of the fear he had... he grimaced and clambered onto the bed. He hooked one arm around her waist and pulled her back against him. "I'm sorry," he said again, and really meant it. "I should have told you about the bleedback. But you shouldn't have come over here on your own Ella."

"I realise that now," she admitted. She shivered and grabbed his hand. "I was really scared, Bialar."

Her voice trembled and he held her tighter. "I was a little as well," he told her. "I thought I was going to loose you."

She twisted in his arms and stared at him. "Did that matter?"

Her eyes were wide and he caught an unmistakable glitter of vulnerability. There was no way he could be anything other than honest when she looked at him like that. He brushed her cheek tenderly. "Very much so," he said softly and her eyes went even wider.

"Oh," she whispered, blushing and looking away.

"However I still think that endangering yourself in such a manner, over something so insignificant, was a foolish thing to do," Bialar told her and sat up. He bent and undid the laces on his boots.

Ella snorted. "The bleedback is hardly insignificant."

He shrugged and kicked off his boots. He glanced at her as he stripped off his trousers. She frowned at him, her expression somewhere between wary and bemused.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Well it's patently obvious we're staying here for the rest of the night," he pointed out. "Therefore I might as well try and get some more of the rest you were so insistent about. So move over."

She blinked at him. "Why?"

"Because these are my quarters and they are the only habitable ones currently." He sat on the bed and shoved her. "And as they are mine, I don't plan on sleeping on the floor. Also you are still very cold and my presence warm you."

"I see," she said, her voice faint.

"Don't worry Ella," he said dryly. "I believe I can keep myself in check. This is for purely practical reasons, I don't have any ulterior motives."

"I wouldn't believe that in a thousand cycles," she muttered.

He glared at her, which considering she had moved back onto her side was a pointless exercise. He shook his head and hooked an arm around her waist to haul her against his chest. She was shivering despite the warm cover, so he edged closer.

It was a fine balance between getting near enough to warm her without being too intimate and making her nervous. However, it seemed such care was not necessary as despite what she had just said, Ella actually accepted the situation with aplomb and snuggled unabashedly. "You're very warm," she noted.

"And you aren't," Bialar retorted pointedly.

She shivered and huddled even closer. "Your frelling ship," she muttered.

"Did I ask you to try bypassing the source of the bleedback?"

"Yes, in fact," she replied. He huffed, but only because he had asked.

"I did not tell you to do it immediately," he pointed out as he rubbed one cold arm. "Nor to come over unaccompanied."

"But I had an idea."

"And it could not wait?"

"No. Well, yes, but..." Ella lifted her hand and then dropped it with a sigh. "Obviously I did not think it was going to end up such an issue. Pardon me for not talking into account the possibility of your ship trying to kill me."

Bialar knew how close it had been and shuddered, masking that reaction from Ella by straightened the cover. "It will not happen again," he assured her. "He knows now that you mean him no harm."

"I would hope so," she said, her tone wry. "Because that's not an experience I care to repeat. However, I'm sure I'm safe enough now."

That startled him. "Why do you say that?" he asked.

"Don't know," she replied with a yawn. "I just always did feel safe around you."

He had not expected that, nor the feelings that admission caused and he swallowed hard. "I'm not safe, Ella," he said quietly, all too aware of how true that was.

"Oh course you are," she stated, his tone sleepy but still firm. "The very reason we met was because you were better than anyone else. You protected me at that moment."

"I thought you didn't need protecting?" he said without thinking.

Her eyes opened and she gave him a steady look. "Don't be pedantic," she muttered. "You know what I mean."

"No," he said with a shake of his head. "I really don't."

"Well..." She bit her lip and flushed slightly. "It's just that... I wasn't stupid Bialar and I know that... well you weren't just being chivalrous. But I know that if you had been determined to have what you wanted... well there wouldn't be much I could have done to stop you."

"Probably not," he admitted in a low voice. "But I wouldn't have done that. And I would not do it now."

"I know that," she said airily. "Therefore I am safe."

Bialar snorted a laugh, but could hardly argue with that logic. "Fine."

She yawned again. "So shut up and lie down, Bialar. I'm tired. For some reason I was very unsettled before and couldn't sleep."

"Hm. I feel I might have a similar problem now," he remarked, but he lay down and pulled her close again. She chuckled softly and nestled against him. He pulled the cover over himself. "I think though I can forgive you, if you return the favour." He yawned and let himself relax. "And it might be an idea if we made an agreement or something to avoid such situations reoccurring. What do you think?"

There was no response, so he prodded her in the ribs, eliciting a soft mutter and she shifted just a little.

Realising she'd fallen asleep, he rolled his eyes and wondered how long he'd been talking to himself. He shifted onto his elbow again and looked down at her. There was much more colour to her skin now and her lips, no longer blue, were curved into a small, contented smile.

He brushed the red-blond hair gently, his own smile faltering at the recall of the moment he thought she was going to die. He leant over her. "Frighten me like that again and I'll kill you myself," he muttered into her ear, and then placed a gentle kiss on her temple.

Bialar lay down again, his arm tight around her waist. The threat had been totally empty, and he would not have said it if he'd thought she would have heard it. However she was well and truly asleep. He closed his eyes and tried to relax. That in itself took some time, but it took even longer for him to let completely go and sleep himself.


End file.
